


Past Attractions

by saturninesunshine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst, F/M, Pregnancy, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 52,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturninesunshine/pseuds/saturninesunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following his eighteenth birthday, Jon runs off to join the army causing a cataclysmic chain of events. Arya always had an affinity for bastards. Now she has three.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Gendry

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go! There was no Game of Thrones tonight so I thought this was as good a time as any to get this started. This has been promised for awhile and this is the start. This is my first multi-fic and it's modern so bear with me. This was originally supposed to be like Juno, but it veered off into really angsty and dark territory. So there are similarities, but I wouldn't count on it. It has a mind of its own. This fic in particular is very musical. I have a playlist but also there is music integrated into the piece itself. This one in particular has its own soundtrack integrated into the story. So thanks to Written in Blood by She Wants Revenge. It's a good one. I've also made a connected story in the same canon. That is a lot lighter than this is turning out to be.

The moment he walked into The Peach, he saw her. Sansa’s text had been drunk. He saw that now. Gendry would never find himself in a place pumping club music and flashing strobe lights all over the place. He blinked hard, but it wasn’t a mirage.

It had been his instinct to be the knight in shining armor, but he could see now that was misplaced. He would always be misplaced. It had been easy to con his way into the club, but now that he was there, he felt more out of place than ever.

He was in his jeans and customary black t-shirt, with his even more out of place friend as his back up. Hot Pie seemed more transfixed by the bar than anything else. He hadn’t caught sight of them. Not like Gendry had.

Sansa’s flaming red hair was easy to spot. But it still wasn’t the first thing he saw. And everything clicked into place.

From that point until forever, Gendry was low. He had been able to fool himself for months, but he understood now. He understood as he watched Arya Stark dance in the middle of the dance floor, completely unrecognizable to anyone but him.

She was wearing black, but he knew it wasn’t from her own closet. Her shirt covered her stomach but was so lacy he could see her black bra. She was wearing a black skirt that shone beneath the lights. He suspected it was Margaery’s.

Up close, Arya’s eyes were coated with black shimmering eyeliner, her short hair waving to just above her shoulders. This wasn’t his best friend. This was Arya Stark, daughter of rich real estate developer Ned Stark.

Gendry’s heart broke. He made a quick turn towards the bar, grabbing Hot Pie’s shirt.

“We’re leaving.”

“What?” Hot Pie asked in dismay. “Why? Do you see the girls that are here?”

His heart gave another wrench.

“Yes, I saw,” Gendry said, having to shout over the mind-numbing dance music.

Gone were the band shirts and dallying with poor boys.  And every heated word between them came rushing back.

“About time you got here.”

Gendry turned to see blue eyes piercing his own. He couldn’t remember the last time Sansa Stark had spoken to him. He stared at her dumbly. Her breath smelled like vodka and he couldn’t bear to look over to the dance floor again.

“I don’t see an emergency,” Gendry said darkly.

“You don’t?” Sansa looked genuinely confused. Her eyes flicked behind her shoulder and he couldn’t help but follow the gaze.

He grimaced, tearing his eyes away again. Sansa watched him.

“Looks like one to me.”

If you haven’t noticed,” Gendry said, “she hasn’t exactly been begging for my company lately.”

“Yeah, what's that about?” Sansa asked.

He had no answer for that.

“It doesn’t matter,” Sansa said, losing interest. “I need you to take her home anyway.”

“What?” Gendry asked, floored.

“Margaery knows about this party in Flea Bottom and we’re going.”

Flea Bottom never sounded like a party to Gendry, but what would he know. He only lived there.

“Your sister’s not invited?” he asked.

“I’m not stupid,” Sansa said coldly. “This whole thing was Arya’s idea, you know.”

Gendry tried not to flinch at her name.

“Tonight. The party. Here. Take her home, Gendry,” Sansa said. “Or leave her here. I’m sure you’d be perfectly willing to abandon your underage best friend where plenty of men would be willing to take her home with them.”

Even when drunk, Sansa was smart. He cursed how obvious he was and her attempt at reverse psychology because she was completely right. Of course he couldn’t leave her. No matter what happened.

Sansa turned to the bar to retrieve the drinks she ordered. She paused, feeling Hot Pie’s salivating gaze on her. She gave him a look before returning to Margaery.

Arya was still dancing.

“So what’s happening?” Hot Pie asked. Gendry rubbed his eyes. The lights were starting to give him a migraine.

“Call Lommy and have him give you a ride home,” Gendry said as he dove into the crowd of drunk and sweating stockbrokers.

“What?” he heard Hot Pie call out. “Why? Is that _Arya_?—“

But Hot Pie’s voice was lost in the crowd as Gendry edged closer and closer to the floor.

She caught him before he caught her. It had always been that way and he knew that would never change.  He looked down to see his hands clasped in small black-polished ones.

He looked up to see her familiar stormy eyes. They weren’t so full of anger as they had been for the past week. But they weren’t anything else, either. They were just empty and gazing. She pulled him, backing onto the floor. He couldn’t deny her. He never could.

The bass was pounding even louder there. “What are you doing?” His voice was lost but she seemed to understand.

She pulled at his hands slowly to the beat and soon they were dancing like all the other couples on the floor. They weren’t grinding and thrusting violently at each other, but they were close, breathing on each other.

Her nails dug into his shirtfront. She wasn’t angry at him. He was sure of that. But she pulled and tugged at him aggressively. He finally recognized the look in her eyes. It was a look he hadn’t wanted to admit he had seen in himself.

She wasn’t letting go. Her arms wound around his neck. There was no space between them. She began to move and he wished that she would stop. He was starting to sweat and the friction between them was too much. His blood was starting to surge and he knew that she knew exactly what she was doing.

He hated her.

He grabbed her bare forearms, pulling her even closer to him, growling in her ear. “We’re leaving.”

Her smirk was cruel.

But he could hear what she said.

“Whatever you say.”

Her voice was cold, but she let him grab her hand and pull her small body through the crowd. She slid through easily but Gendry’s blood boiled at the looks she was getting from every red-blooded male in the place.

He couldn’t be concerned about where Hot Pie was or if he had gotten a ride home. He knew Arya and he knew this night was about to turn real messy real quick.

When they finally reached his car, Arya stopped short. She had always liked his restored Camaro before, but it had never seemed so intimate until this moment.

“Are you my designated driver now?” she asked mockingly.

“I don’t know,” Gendry shot back furiously. “Are you drunk?”

She didn’t say anything to that. He knew that she wasn’t. She never liked the taste. But his fury towards her was building so much he couldn’t say that driving was a good idea at that moment. She measured him glare for glare and he flung the door to the driver’s side open.

“Get in.”

A few moments passed, but finally Arya opened the door and slid in. They drove in heated silence for a few miles. Gradually the houses became more decent as they drove closer to her part of town. The distance between them was laughable to him when he thought about the literal distance between their districts.

The distance had always been there. They had just been too stubborn to see it.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said.

“You’re apologizing?” Arya asked in disbelief. It made him cold.

“I shouldn’t have been the one to pick you up,” Gendry said. “Sansa shouldn’t have abandoned you.”

Her silence told him how disappointed she was.

“It’s always like that,” Arya finally answered. “I don’t expect any more from her.”

“What were you doing?” Gendry couldn’t help but burst out. He cast a sideways glance at her. “And how you’re dressed—“

“I don’t recall you being my father,” Arya said coldly.

“You’re right,” Gendry said. “Sorry, m’lady. I had no right to speak to you in that matter.”

“Are you _kidding_.”

He was right. It was about to get messy.

You have no right to be sarcastic with me right now,” Arya said. “After everything that you did—“

“Everything that I did?” Gendry asked. It was all coming undone. “There was two of us there, Arya. What makes you think this is all my fault?”

She was finally looking at him. Really looking at him with all the passion that he saw in the club. He tore his eyes away from hers and focused on the road.

“This wouldn’t have happened,” Arya said. “This wouldn’t have happened if…”

He knew what she was saying.

“This wouldn’t have happened if what, Arya?” Gendry asked quietly. He felt her intake of breath at the use of her name. Both knew what neither of them had ever said or were ever willing to say.

Gendry slowed as he came to a stoplight. She hadn’t spoken for very long. Gendry looked over at her, sure that she would have sunk down into the seat and staring angrily away as she always did. Always stubborn like him.

But she always did this too. She always surprised him. It happened in an instant and he couldn’t stop her.

He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to.

Arya straddled him swiftly, kissing him furiously. Gendry was frozen in his seat, aware of the cars behind him, but mostly aware of Arya Stark in his lap. Her hand curled around his throat as her tongue thrust against his.

For a moment, he kissed her back. But she had pulled away, only staring at him. He heard a distinct car horn and she eased herself off of him, sitting back in her seat and buckling her belt.

Gendry accelerated quickly, his heart beating against his chest as his car jumped forward. He was sure he had missed the turn to her house. He just kept driving and felt her eyes looking at him questioningly. It could have gone that way. He could have just driven her back to her house and this could have all been forgotten, like it never happened.

That wasn't what he did.

His tires squealed as he pulled off to the side of the road and wrenched off his seatbelt, turning to look at her. What he wanted more than anything was what he couldn’t have. He knew that. But he just kept on staring at her.

Arya pressed her finger slowly to the trigger of her seatbelt. It slid away. She inched closer to him. His instinct to run, but his blood urged him different. The one thing he had been thinking of for so long he couldn’t remember not thinking of it.

But he couldn’t ask. He couldn’t wonder what was happening because it had already happened. The two of them had been a train wreck from the beginning. Arya loved a good train wreck.

Arya grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled him into her waiting mouth. And finally he reciprocated. Her tongue was like fire against his and he balled her hair up in his fist.

When she moaned, he knew he had gone too far. And there was no going back now. He broke away breathless. Her hand found its way to his chest again and she shoved him. He took her hint and crawled into the back seat. She slithered into the back with him, kissing him hotly again. He gripped the back of her head and she shoved him on his back.

She crawled over him, her legs framing his hips. Before he knew what he was doing, he gripped hers, anchoring her to him. She pulled him up to meet her lips, her hips rolling against his. He groaned deeply into her mouth and she bit his lower lip savagely.

Her fingers dug into his belt.

“Arya,” he said haltingly, his fingers curling around hers.

“Do you want this?” she asked. “Or don’t you?”

“I…” She knew. He didn’t have to say but she was making him. She had known all along. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“I know,” she said before capturing his lips again. He closed his eyes, surrendering his shirt as she pulled it over his head. Her nails scraped against his torso and he shuddered.

His hands eased up her back and she stilled, her eyes telling him to go on with it. His fingers found the zipper at the back of her shirt and eased it down before she tore it off.

It was the first time he had seen her so exposed, her skin milky and luminescent in just the light of the moon. His hand slid up her stomach and she went to work on his pants.

Her skirt was tight and constricting but it wasn’t before long that the both of them had no more layers to strip away.

She pulled down his pants. He almost felt the objection on his tongue but she silenced him with her own. And as much as his mind thought this was a bad idea, his body did not and she could see the evidence of that with her own eyes.

Her hand trailed down his stomach and he gasped.

He knew the way she was feeling. He knew that this was just another moment, another rising action in her life. He was just her entertainment for the night. She would be stupid not to know he would do anything for her and she was the one that always called him that. But for the first time, her eyes were soft, he and he was taken by surprise.

“I wanted this too.”

It was something he never thought she would say.

“Even though love doesn’t last.”

That was the last thing she said before they were joined and he shuddered again, his hands on her hips as she moved above him. She braced her hands against his chest. But once, she leaned down and kissed him, gripping his face as he trembled.

And not for the first time, he found her beautiful. No one else might have thought so, but there could never been anything as savagely wild and beautiful as she was, moving fluidly and brutally, her hand braced against his car window.

He hoped the mark from the condensation never faded.

When she finally collapsed against him, he was glad she didn’t move. She laid against his chest, their breathing in time with each other, mixed in each other’s sweat. For the once and only time, she would smell like him.

It was only a few blissful minutes before she peeled herself away from him. He knew that. It could only ever be that. She was Arya and he was Gendry and that was the way things were.

They drove in silence the rest of the way. He pulled into her drive and up to the big expansive mansion. He put the car and park and took in her visage.

She was dark, make-up smeared, hair in disarray, and once again, he reveled in how beautiful she was. He knew it would be a long time again before he saw her. She called him stupid but she was always the stubborn one. He would stare at her until she disappeared into her large house and closed the door behind her.

But she stayed seated for a few more minutes. He would have liked to think that she stayed for the same reasons that he did. She didn’t want to leave him like would never be able to leave her, even when she pushed him away. But he knew that was naïve. He couldn’t be that way anymore. Not when she had clearly made the decision that he knew she would always have to make in the end.

She was better than him and she didn’t have room in her life for him any longer. Especially after everything that had happened.

Arya exhaled and her fierce mask for the night had melted away.

She had tasted like chocolate and not a trace of alcohol.

She put her hand to the door handle and pulled it. She was half way out when she turned to him.

“If it wasn’t for the both of us, Jon would still be here.”

Arya got out of the car and closed the car door quietly behind her. He watched until she crepr back into her dark house and put his car back into gear, backing out of the driveway as he had done so many times before and driving away into the night.

_All or nothing, it’s written in blood_

 


	2. Two Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had only unlocked the door when the ninety seconds were up and there was the undisputed fact that something was devastatingly wrong.
> 
> She could see that now as Sansa looked from her sister to the positive sign on the test.
> 
> She dropped it quickly back into the wastebasket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to be able to update at least once a week, if not more. Tonight was RW heartbreak, so here's the next chapter.

Arya looked at herself in the mirror. Her third holes were inflamed. She would have to go back to the convenience store to get disinfectant. On any other day, that in itself would have been an annoyance. But the simple fact that she had just returned from there three hours ago would make it more uncomfortable.

Even more uncomfortable than her new infected piercing.

She sighed, twisting the back of the stud, feeling the fresh sting. It would be noticeable.

She leaned away from the mirror, pulling her fingers through her dark hair. It almost reached her shoulders and was half done in the back. She fixed it so it covered her ears. She was on bad terms with her mother as it was and she knew it was about to get a whole lot worse.

“Your roots are showing.”

Arya hadn’t even heard Sansa come into the bathroom. On instinct, she edged a few feet closer to her bedroom door. Arya’s grey eyes flicked to her sister’s blue ones in the mirror as she came up behind her. Sansa’s door to the bathroom was left ajar.

Arya still hadn’t heard it, but she had been slightly preoccupied. It was nuisance enough that she had to share a bathroom with her sister but the fact that bathroom was the connection between their adjoining room was even more annoying.

Especially now.

Arya slid her hands over her hair.

“It’s only a few shades darker,” Arya countered, but she knew her sister was right. Her mother had been scandalized when her youngest daughter had died her hair black a few months ago, but Arya didn’t have the sparkling auburn that her sister and most of her brothers shared. Hers was mousy brown and she didn’t think anyone would think anything of it.

She had underestimated her mother’s pension for tradition. She was really going to flip her lid if she found out what Arya's latest debacle.

But she had no intention on letting anyone find out about that.

“You can still tell,” Sansa said, rubbing lip-gloss across her mouth. Arya bit back her usual sarcastic remark. Today was the last day to get on Sansa’s nerves.

Arya smoothed down her hair once again only to wince. Her sister caught it and groaned dramatically.

“You did not just get another piercing.”

Arya scowled at Sansa. Her patience for her sister was running low and she could just feel her luck running out. She attempted to cover it up, but Sansa was faster. “It looks really infected.”

Arya jerked away. “Yes, thank you.”

Getting out of this conversation would be better sooner rather than later.

“I’ll go to the convenience store later and pick something up for it.”

Arya knew that it had only caught Sansa’s attention because their mother would be even more at the end of her rope with Arya.

“Didn’t you just go today?” Sansa asked.

Arya had been right. This day was getting worse by the second.

“Yeah, so?” Arya asked. The best defense was a good offense, or so that’s what Arya had been told. “I didn’t realize it until I got home.”

“What did you get, then?”

Sansa was getting too nosy for her own good.

“You have your own car,” Arya bit back. “If you need to pick something up, go get it yourself.”

The best defense.

“You’ve been acting really weird lately,” Sansa said. “I mean more than usual.”

“Whatever you want to rat me out to Mom for will probably turn up sooner or later,” Arya said evasively, making her way closer to her bedroom door. She hoped that wouldn’t be a self-fulfilling prophecy but Sansa really wasn't letting this thing go.

“You haven’t been arrested all week,” Sansa mocked. “Do you have the flu or something?”

“Don’t you have enough of your own drama in your life?” Arya snapped. Sansa’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“You’ve been in the bathroom for awhile.”

“What, were you timing me?”

“Arya.”

For the first time in probably ten years, Arya heard Sansa’s voice as soft. She didn’t reach her door, but didn’t move closer to her sister.

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you care?” Arya asked.

“I care.”

“Since when?” Arya asked.

“I know things have been difficult.”

“Understatement of the year.”

“And I know Jon leaving was hard on you,” Sansa said, “but you don’t have to go around acting like this.”

“Acting like what?”

“You know what,” Sansa said. “You’re locked up in your room all day listening to depressing music.”

“So that’s different?” Arya asked scathingly. She knew that’s all Sansa thought of her.

“You haven’t played since Jon’s birthday.”

“I’m sure you miss it.”

“God, Arya,” Sansa said in frustration. “It wouldn’t kill you not to be so antagonistic for once.”

“We’ve never exactly been the best of friends.” After a moment she said, “he was your brother too.”

“He isn’t _dead_ , Arya.”

“He could be,” Arya replied. “He could be just another statistic.”

“Not yet.”

Maybe Sansa just didn’t want to think about it. Maybe she wanted to live in her perfect world and shut out everything else because it was easier to cope. But Arya’s own coping mechanism had already got in her in trouble. She didn’t have time for anything else.

“Well, don’t bother yourself,” Arya said quietly. This was the last thing she needed. “Everything’s fine.”

When her hand was on the doorknob, Arya should have known she would be deterred yet again to find passage to her room.

“Arya.”

When Arya turned around, her stomach dropped. Her first instinct was _that’s not mine._

But the way that this day was going, she shouldn't have even been surprised.

“Only two of us share this bathroom.”

But Sansa seemingly had read her mind as she fished the pregnancy test out of the trash. Arya hadn’t known what else to do with it. She certainly didn’t count on this as a possibility.

 _It’s not mine_ died in the back of her throat just like it had when she went to the convenience store that day.

She had found herself loitering in the back aisles for fifteen minutes before she was getting cast suspicious looks. She supposed that when girls were in this sort of situation, they told their best friends and had them there for moral support. But Arya’s best friend had been Jon. And she didn’t even want to think of the alternative.

She hadn’t spoken to _him_ in two months and it was better that way. Arya didn’t have any close friends that were girls. The closest she had was Sansa and that was a nightmare she never thought she would have to experience.

After she had finally plucked up the courage, Arya selected one of the boxes and brought it up to the cash register. She almost bought some gum or a tabloid to go with it so as to not seem so pathetic already. But maybe that would have made it worse.

She didn’t know which test was best, not that Sansa would have any clue. She was an unblemished angel. Even so, Arya had never felt more alone in her life and the manager rang her up with judgmental eyes.

Mr. Luwin had been a friend of the family for decades. Arya knew that buying from this particular store was asking for trouble, but any other she would be spotted by classmates and Arya Stark the Pregnant Rebel would spread like wildfire.

At least Luwin cared about the family’s reputation and wouldn’t gossip. But that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t judge.

“Do your parents know about this?” he asked carefully, putting the test in a bag.

“It’s for a friend,” Arya said automatically, but she couldn’t even fool the old man. Arya didn’t have any female friends. Everyone knew that. And Sansa wouldn’t be caught dead being so damn stupid like Arya was. That was what she knew everyone would say. That’s what her mother would have said if she were to find out and she didn’t even want to think of what it would do to her father. Especially after Jon.

Arya could tell that Luwin didn’t believe her but it didn’t matter. She ran all the way home and barricaded herself in the bathroom for three hours. Sansa must have returned from whatever pep rally or fund raiser she had been at during that time.

Arya only had the courage to take the test well into hour three, which was about the time she realized her third hole was infected. She had been careless. But again, that was the understatement of the year.

She had only unlocked the door when the ninety seconds were up and there was the undisputed fact that something was devastatingly wrong.

She could see that now as Sansa looked from her sister to the positive sign on the test.

She dropped it quickly back into the wastebasket.

Arya could practically feel the hailstorm of judgment and disgust from her sister and she would have rather experienced that in the comfort of her own room. Unfortunately, Sansa was indeed following her and Arya collapsed on her bed.

Sansa stepped into the room airily, casting her eyes across her sister’s belongings. She would rarely find herself in Arya’s room, particularly because she found it so antagonistic, just like her sister.

The five-piece red drum set sat in the corner like it always had. But there was a thin cover of dust and the drumsticks were untouched. Her walls were spammed with rock posters but it was the bulletin board that had the most life.

There was a collage of pictures of real life. In the center was the picture of Arya and their brother Jon. His arm was around her. It wasn’t hard to see their resemblance. They both had the steely grey eyes of their father and unruly dark hair.

Framing the photo were more pictures, concert tickets, and other memorabilia. There was one in particular of Arya playing. The two others of the band were on the edges, but in the center was Arya in mid motion, bringing her drumstick down, her hair free and flying with a grin on her face.

The only time Arya ever looked that happy was when she was playing.

Arya looked up to her sister.

“It’s Gendry’s, isn’t it?”

This was the last time or place that Arya wanted to have this conversation but as of now, it seemed unavoidable.

“No, it’s Hot Pie’s,” Arya said sarcastically. She knew she should at least trying to find comfort in her sister’s presence, but it was difficult at most times for that.

Arya was surprised when her sister smiled at her.

“It was that night,” Sansa said. Arya didn’t need to deny, but she wasn’t going to confirm it either. That was a night that she refused to think about for the past two months, even in her darkest moments. Thinking about him was something she never wanted to do again.

It seemed as though fate had other plans.

“You don’t have to sound so disappointed in me,” Arya said. “You’ll still be the favorite child.”

“That isn’t what I want, Arya,” Sansa said.

“Doesn’t really matter now, does it?” Arya asked.

“I won’t tell,” Sansa said after a moment.

“Why not?” Arya asked.

“You’re my sister.” Sansa truly was her mother’s daughter. Family always came first. Whether they liked each other or not.

“I’m too tired to fight right now.”

“I’m not—“ Sansa broke off. For the first time, she saw her sister smile.

“Thank you.”

“What was that?” Sansa asked in surprise.

“Shut up.”

Sansa sat next to her sister. She put the younger girl’s head in her lap, lightly stroking her hair.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Arya asked.

“I thought we already discussed this.”

“I can take care of myself, you know.”

“Up until now.”

“Even now,” Arya said stubbornly. “You don’t have to take care of me.”

“What are you going to do?” Sansa asked. But the answer was obvious. “You’ve known for all of thirty minutes. Take your time to think about it.”

“You’ll think I’d regret it?” Arya asked doubtfully.

“I think you’ll think differently in the morning,” Sansa said.

“This is the sort of thing with a ticking clock,” Arya said.

“You were never one to care about what other people think,” Sansa said honestly.

“Could you really see me doing this?” Arya asked. “Being like Mom?”

Sansa was quiet.

“Or be like Jon’s mom.”

“We don’t know who she was,” Sansa said.

“We know that she gave him up,” Arya said. “And he’s spent his whole life with consequences that weren’t his fault to begin with.”

There was a long silence before Sansa spoke again.

“Alright.”

Arya sat up, looking at her sister in surprise. “Alright?”

“It might be for the best,” Sansa said.

“And you won’t tell Mom,” Arya said.

“I can’t tell her if I’m the one picking you up,” Sansa said. “They don’t let you take yourself home after, you know.”

“Do you?” Arya asked. “Did you… know?”

“No,” Sansa said.

“No,” Arya agreed. “You weren’t stupid like me.”

“You weren’t stupid,” Sansa said. “You were… misguided. Just because I didn’t make the same mistake doesn’t mean I don’t care. That night was confusing. For all of us.”

“Why was he there?” Arya asked. “Because of you?”

“I wanted to make sure you got home alright,” Sansa said.

“I never thought I’d see him in a place like that.”

“I’m sure he thought the same about you.”

“I just wanted to forget,” Arya said. “I didn’t count on him showing up.”

“I knew he’d take care of you.”

“I don’t need taking care of,” Arya insisted again. “And anyway, I’m sure you didn’t mean in that way.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t his idea.”

Arya smiled tightly. But her sister was right. It never would have been his idea. Not if they lived for a thousand thousand years. She hadn’t even been sure if he would even want to. He wasn’t like that. He was always Jon’s. Never hers.

“Does he know?” Sansa asked.

“Of course not,” Arya said sharply. “He’s stupid.”

“He hasn’t been around for awhile,” Sansa said.

“I can’t see him right now.” She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to see him ever again.

“So you can’t blame him for not knowing,” Sansa said. "And you not telling him."

“I don’t blame him,” Arya said. “I don’t blame him for anything. I know this is my fault.”

“It’s no one’s fault,” Sansa said. “But he deserves to know.”

“Why?”

“Just because you’re taking all the blame doesn’t mean he isn’t invested in this.”

“He wants to see me just about as much as I want to see him,” Arya said.

“You can’t know that.”

“You said so yourself,” Arya said. “He hasn’t been around.”

“Because he thinks that’s what you want.”

“So?” Arya asked. “He’s too stupid to pick up a phone?”

“He cares more about what you want than what he does.” Sansa’s voice was sad and Arya couldn’t understand that. She didn’t expect her sister to ever confide in her, but it had occurred to her that she still knew next to nothing about what Sansa held close. “He deserves to know, Arya. No matter what you decide.”

“I can’t.” Arya had never heard her voice so choked before. “Everything’s ruined.”

Sansa looked over to Arya’s abandoned drumset. It lay there sadly. Untouched and unwanted. Sansa didn’t want her sister to be covered in dust. She was grungy, but she shouldn’t be sad as well.

She didn’t want it to be her fault.

“Have you talked to Jon?”

"No one has,” Arya said darkly.

That was the whole problem. That was the reason why Arya hadn’t spoken to their mother in two months and barely surfaced for dinner.

“Bran’s getting back from the hospital today.”

Arya knew what Sansa was saying, though she never came right out to say it. It was Sansa’s way. Arya didn’t know what her way was anymore. She didn’t know if she could continue to absorb all this hurt and pain. She had neglected Bran, especially when he needed her most.

“Mom must be happy,” Arya said. That wasn’t what Sansa wanted to hear.

“We’re all happy.”

“Yes,” Arya agreed.

“He misses you.”

Arya didn’t think she had a high threshold for guilt either. But her mother’s eyes brightened when she sat down at the dinner table. She couldn’t remember she had seen Bran grin. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Bran.

He had been living in the hospital for the past year. He looked older now, his features harder and more defined. 

For the first time, Arya helped Bran to bed. It was the first time that he had been home since his diagnosis and it was the first time they had truly spoken since everything started to fall apart.

Now that she thought about it, Arya supposed that Bran had been the omen to offset everything else. He was the foreboding sign. After he went away, so did everyone else.

They had been relatively silent as Arya helped him beneath his covers. She hesitated at the side of the bed before lying down next to him. He smiled at that. She didn’t know what to do with her face.

“Don’t worry.”

Arya looked up at her little brother, always so calm and understanding even when fate had given the worst of it to him.

Arya’s eyebrows crinkled and Bran settled down in the bed.

Dinner had been a maelstrom of passive-aggression from their mother, denial from their father, and of course secrets that Bran seemed to gauge. But he was smiling and he was eating.

Arya hugged him.

“Please, don’t worry,” Bran said into the darkness.

Arya never hugged anyone. Not anymore.


	3. Little Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry I made you have sex with me.” She didn’t know if the rage was directed it him or just her. “You won’t have to go through that again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the plan for updates is every Sunday before Game of Thrones today, obviously, but it's the season finale so I hope I won't still be writing this when it comes back. Anyway, I'm so happy people are intrigued about this and are reading at all. I hope I keep you all going!

It was too much to hope for that she could leave the house that day without incident. The bathroom seemed to be a reoccurring point of disaster and Arya couldn’t escape before Sansa caught her.

“You’re going to see Gendry like that?”

Despite the fact that Arya was sure her sister pitied her for her situation, that didn’t stop her from being Sansa.

Arya looked down at her customary black combat boots, ragged jeans and unzipped sweatshirt that hung off her frame.

“He’ll just be at the garage,” Arya said. “We’re not going to prom.”

“You are meeting the father of your child—“

“Sansa, stop.” Her voice was hard.

The entire idea was that no one was going to find out. Not her parents and - as it had been her plan initially - certainly not Gendry. According to Sansa that was impolite and not the proper etiquette, not that she would know. It didn't exist for anyone else and Arya was making sure it didn't exist for her either. Sansa speaking about it so blatantly ruining the illusion for her.

“—To inform him of your precarious situation—“ Sansa ignored her.

“I’m just going to tell him,” Arya said. “That’s it. And then I’m gone.”

“Why?”

Arya knew that her sister and Gendry had never been particularly close. About as close as Sansa and Jon were. It was puzzling that she seemed to be more considerate of his feelings than Arya’s.

“Because that’s all he needs to know.”

“You don’t share any of the same classes,” Sansa said. “This is the first time he’s seen you since…”

Arya couldn’t even guess how Sansa would put that night delicately. Nothing about that night was delicate.

“I’m not trying to seduce him,” Arya said.

“I’m not saying that,” Sansa replied with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t you think this would be a good time to look…”

“Like you?”

“Presentable.”

Arya knew that’s not exactly what her sister meant. She didn’t think Sansa was romanticizing the situation. But in some way, maybe she thought Arya looking pretty – or as pretty as she had the ability to be – for once in her life would be beating Gendry. That sounded like Sansa.

“He never cared before,” Arya said. “I always dressed this way.”

“Except for that night.”

Arya’s eyes narrowed. It had been her idea to go out that night. Sansa had wholeheartedly agreed but the wardrobe had not been Arya's idea. There was only one thing that she remembered with complete clarity about that night. And it was the one thing that she wished to forget.

“You’re saying he only slept with me because I was dressed like Margaery?”

Sansa was usually quick to defend her friend. Arya always suspected that Sansa would have rather had Margaery as a sister than her. That suspicion had been confirmed that night at the club, but it didn’t matter. This was the way it was. But this time, she said nothing.

“I don’t want you to dress like Margaery,” Sansa said. “It’s your decision. Wear what you want. I just know he’ll be glad to see you.”

That sounded disturbingly like romanticizing the situation. And still, Arya wasn’t so sure Sansa was right in her prediction of how Gendry would react. In fact, she was convinced of the opposite. But that was the last thing she was concerned with for the moment.

Gendry worked at the local mechanic’s garage after school. Yoren had been a friend of his mother’s and had been able to snag him a job when he was thirteen. The Waters’ weren’t affluent, as Arya was constantly being reminded by Gendry himself.

But Gendry was good at fixing things that were broken and covering himself in grease. He had started restoring his own car when he was fifteen and it was his pride and joy. Arya didn’t relish the prospect of hunting him down there, but Sansa was insistent that it was the proper thing to do.

Seeing him again for the first time was something she definitely didn’t want to do in a garage. Maybe she understood some of what Sansa was saying about looking nice but she was too far past that now. Things had gone too far and seeing him meant nothing. It couldn’t. Not anymore.

When she appeared at the front of the garage, Yoren grinned at her instantly. Ned Stark was well known and unlike the rest of the endowed families, he was actually well liked.

“You here for the boy?”

It was a rhetorical question, she knew. But still, Arya found herself hesitating. She fidgeted in her sweatshirt. Yoren motioned to her.

“He’s working on a Cadillac. Wait inside.”

Gendry had already spent a grand total of three hours underneath the car. He saw her boots next to his head before he heard Yoren’s shout.

“Oi, boy! You’ve got a visitor.”

For a moment, he was still. He knew that this was the worst time for anything to do with Arya Stark to be happening. And he knew that he was trapped, in every sense of the word. She knew he was there and there was nothing he could do but get out. His tools landed on the floor of the garage with a clatter.

After a breath, Gendry slid out from underneath the car to stand as calmly as he could. He still couldn’t cease the hammering in his heart. He hadn’t seen those wide grey eyes in months and there she was. The way he always thought of her and remembered her. Leather and steel and ferocity. That was his Arya Stark and that hadn’t changed. She was in her usual garb but his heart clenched with longing and she looked even better than he remembered.

Silence stretched awkwardly between them as they only looked at each other.

They had a full car between them and Arya still wished there was more distance. But he just stared at her and she knew he had every reason to be the expectant one. She just sighed. She had come too far now.

Arya turned on her heel to walk out the way she came. She didn’t hear his own clunky steps behind her and she stopped. She looked to see he was still staring and had that familiar look on his face that was something like confusion.

She sighed, motioned with her head to outside of the garage. She wasn’t going to give him a choice in this matter. He had done her in already. And she very well wasn’t going to do this inside. She knew that lots of the workers there had a tendency to gossip. Yoren most of all who particularly enjoyed talking to her father. After a moment, Gendry followed her.

“You look good.” He surprised her. The awkwardness of the situation was evident and she didn’t think he would speak first. She still didn’t know what she was going to say to him or if there was anything to say.

He still surprised her.

“Why did you say that?” Arya asked immediately. Even then, she hated how defensive she was. She hated it almost as much as she hated the wounded look on his face. He turned away from her and she almost thought that he was going to head right back into the garage and forsake her like she could only expect. But he when he turned back to face her again his expression was as vacant as ever.

And worst of all, she knew. She knew everything. She knew how he was feeling and she knew that she felt the exact same way.

She missed him. She hadn’t thought that two months would be so long but an ache spread through her chest and she had forgotten how good it was to be near him. He smelled like he always did. Something essentially him that she never felt at home without.

“What are you doing here?” Gendry asked monotonously.

She deserved as much. He didn’t know. He couldn’t understand what she was doing here. She couldn’t understand it either but the more she stood there, dumb, the more she hated to admit that Sansa was right. Things were so inexorably damaged between them and she knew there was no way she could get it back. Not when she was so irrevocably broken. She wondered if he could forgive her for that one day. If he could even try to understand.

“The car looks good.” It was the only thing that she could think of to say.

“It needs work.”

Arya felt her stomach turn.

She watched Gendry’s eyes soften and she wanted to be anywhere but there.

“I know you don’t want to hear it,” he said. “But you do really look good.”

“I’m pregnant.” She couldn’t even hear what he had said to her.

He was quiet. He looked at her and her blatant interruption. He finally took a step towards her. Arya couldn’t stop herself. She stepped away.

He flinched. “Why are you telling me?”

Arya was confused for a moment. He didn’t sound accusatory. He just sounded like he didn’t understand.

“Because I’m not keeping it,” Arya finally said. It was the only thing to say.

“What?” 

“I thought you should know,” Arya said, unable to repeat the words.

“Did you?”

He knew her. And the guilt hit her hard. He knew as well as she did. Maybe even more so. She didn’t think he should know. That screamed Sansa all over. Truly, Arya had to wonder if he really was happy to see her. She had thought he wanted nothing to do with her as the past months had suggested. But she knew him better than anyone. And she knew that look.

She had never seen him look devastated. And she knew that no one could devastate him that way that she could. She had known that before she even pulled up. But it was too late now and no matter what, she wouldn’t change her mind. Even if everything could be different. Even if they were something that at that moment, they just couldn’t be.

“Why bother tell me at all?”

Arya had confusions over right and wrong and what was expected of her. But Gendry was never supposed to come into that at all. He was never supposed to be tainted by the expectations put on her. But now she didn’t know. She didn’t know if she really wanted to be here. She didn’t want to know if she missed him.

She didn’t know if she wanted him to stop her.

“I’m not keeping it.” Arya’s voice was hard. “Sansa has an appointment for me next week.”

Gendry’s jaw clenched. But he looked at his feet and not at her again.

“As m’lady commands.”

Arya’s breath caught in her throat. He still refused to look at her the way he always did. Whenever Jon took him over to her house and her mother was there. Whenever she was forced to wear a dress or attend one of Sansa’s functions. She knew that tone and she knew what it meant when he refused to look at her in the eye like he was nothing. It was more than unfair but he never knew how much it hurt her when he did that.

She should have turned away. She should have accepted the fact that Sansa was wrong. He didn’t want to see her and he wouldn’t care to again. Especially now. But she just couldn’t. She could never adhere to any of the rules.

And she hated how choked her voice was.

“I hate it when you say that.”

Gendry looked up in surprise, his wide blue eyes full of wonder and regret. But she had already turned around and started back to her car. She heard his steps behind her and she couldn’t help herself. She stopped short.

When she turned back to him again the same amount of distance was between them, like it always was.

“I like your new piercing,” Gendry said, his voice rough. Arya would have put a hand up to it if he wasn’t looking at her like that. She new it was red and crusty but she also knew that Gendry would always be genuine. He liked it but she wouldn’t let herself cry in front of him.

And he waited. He waited like he always waited for her.

“I’m sorry I made you have sex with me.”  She didn’t know if the rage was directed it him or just her. “You won’t have to go through that again.”

This time when she turned away, he didn’t follow.

The last time she almost cried in front of Gendry was the night that Jon left. It was the only night they had been alone before what had transpired between them in the back of his car.

Arya never looked back until she got back to her car. She slid inside and slammed the door closed. When she looked back to the garage, he was gone. Arya turned on the ignition, the radio flicking on. She cranked the volume and sank back in her seat. The music blared and not even she could hear herself cry.

Arya realized three hours had passed when she found herself driving aimlessly around town. She was good at that sort of thing. Her eyes were dry, not rimmed red like when Sansa cried, and no make-up to speak of to be smudged. No one had ever seen her cry – save for Jon. And she wasn’t about to change that tradition.

Not even when she was in such a difficult predicament. Arya liked to avoid school at all costs. She only went to avoid truancy but even so, the large building loomed. She wasn’t sure her heart could take any more and still, she felt it crack.

Bran was sitting in his wheelchair out front. He was alone.

“Don’t you know it’s a Saturday?”

Bran grinned that grin of his as she shoved the passenger door open.

“Then what are you doing here?”

“We’re connected.” It’s what they always used to say during the days before Robb had abandoned them for higher education and Jon smiled more. “Get in.”

“Not going to help your poor crippled brother?”

“No.”

He laughed and she got out of the car anyway.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Arya asked as she rounded the car.

“Just picking up this.” This was the keyboard in his lap that she noticed for the first time. She felt even worse than ever. Arya and Bran were connected being the remaining musicians in the family. And even so, they would be hard-pressed to hear Bran play the piano again. He hadn’t since his diagnosis. “Don’t look so depressed.”

Arya gave him her best fake smile, which only made him laugh. She pulled the back door open and tucked the keyboard securely in. She helped Bran carefully to his feet and he stumbled as graciously as he could into the front. She folded his chair and put it in the trunk.

When she returned to the driver’s seat, Bran’s face was still slightly red. She knew how embarrassed he was when it came to what he couldn’t control. But Arya only ruffled his hair and he exhaled. It wasn’t a secret the younger of the Stark boys had a spinal disorder or the fact that everyone seemed to be talking about it. Bran was never meant to be broken and Arya would smash anyone’s face that talked about her brother like that.

Bran still had that insecurity and would largely only let Arya help him. That had been before her own crippling dilemma and it pounded her with guilt. Somehow, he seemed to sense it. Bran could always sense it.

“So are you going to finally tell me what’s been going on or are we going to keep pretending like nothing’s wrong?”

Too perceptive for his own good.

“Do you think you’ll ever play again?” Arya asked. Bran smiled grimly.

“Will you?” he challenged. Or challenged enough for Bran. “Not that I want to talk about it, but it’s been quiet for awhile.”

It had been a long time since Catelyn complained about the incessant pounding of drums coming from the second floor.

“I don’t think that pregnant women should be playing drums,” Arya said. She didn’t look at Bran’s face. She didn’t need to. “Though I don’t exactly know. Maybe I should research that.”

Surprise didn’t cross her little brother’s features. He only nodded calmly.

“Are you going to keep it?”

“No,” Arya said. 

“Thanks for telling me.”

She finally looked back at him. He reached out his hand and held the one that wasn’t on the steering wheel.

“It’s embarrassing.” Arya looked from the road over to Bran. He was staring out the windshield. “Sitting in front of a piano and having to have a special chair. Everyone knowing you’re a cripple.”

“Stop using that word,” Arya said. “You’re not a cripple.”

“Then you’re not pregnant,” Bran replied easily. “That must be a relief.”

Arya smiled but it hurt. Bran’s smile faltered too.

“Did you tell Sansa?” Bran asked. “Or did she just find out.”

“I didn’t tell her,” Arya said. “How did you know that?”

“You don’t scream at each other anymore,” Bran said. “I think I actually saw you smile at her the other day. And when she’s home, you sit together.”

“She probably wants to fix me,” Arya said. “Whatever mess I’ve gotten into. Some sort of swan project.”

“You could give her the benefit of the doubt,” Bran says. “She does love you.”

“Love,” Arya stated.

Bran sighed. “It’s not so bad.”

“No,” Arya said. “It’s worse.”

“You’re too jaded for a teenager.”

“You’re too optimistic for a teenager.”

“Not optimistic,” Bran said. “Observant. That was the most dysfunctional party I have ever been to. And I spent a year in the hospital.”

No one talked about Jon’s birthday.

“It wasn’t fair,” Arya said distantly.

“Neither were you,” Bran said. “No one was selfless. Not you. Not Jon. Not Gendry.”

Arya’s eyes snapped to his.

“That’s where you’re coming from, right?” Bran asked. “I hate to see you cry.”

“I’m not crying.”

“Not in front of him you weren’t,” Bran said.

“Not anywhere.”

Arya pulled into the driveway to their house.

“Two months ago you came home, driven by Gendry and you cried.”

“That doesn’t mean…”

“That you let him in?” Bran asked. “I’m not stupid.”

“No,” she said. “You’re too smart.”

“I just love you,” Bran shrugged. “It’s really not so bad.”

“You’re not the one watching everything fall apart,” Arya said.

“Yes I am.” Bran stared at her. As far as she was concerned, that was the end of the conversation. 

When Arya looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, she winced. Especially when she saw her reflection side-by-side to her sister’s.

“I can’t believe you went to see him dressed like that,” Sansa sighed.

Arya bit her lip, refusing to look at her sister. Sansa exhaled again but Arya only looked up when Sansa pushed a box towards her. She looked to see the bottle of ointment. She couldn’t smile, but Sansa understood.

Gingerly, she brushed Arya’s hair back, taking the tender stud from her ear. Arya gritted her teeth but never showed her pain. Sansa dipped a q-tip into the bottle and they both sat in silence as she cleaned her sister’s wound.


	4. Bullet With Butterfly Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whenever he passed, girls would whisper his name excitedly. Arya felt nauseated. It was only when she got home and threw up did she realize it might be something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been getting a lot of questions about Gendry and his character and things like that. All I can hope to say is that I hope it becomes more clear. This is predominately Arya's POV except when I temporarily shift so the fact that Arya doesn't quite understand how Gendry's feeling is transposed onto readers. That being said, I am making moves to hopefully make him more understandable. This is as much his story as hers so hopefully that will come to pass.
> 
> Also some things that I forgot to go over. A modern ASoIaF isn't the easiest thing to write. Logically, in a modern context they would be set somewhere in the UK. I am in fact American and wouldn't want to attempt jargon and slang that I'm unfamiliar with and offend anybody. This isn't necessarily taking place in America but a modern Westeros if that makes sense.
> 
> I'd also like to say that I've read up to Storm of Swords but not the last two books. Aegon will be making appearances, but I'd like not to be spoiled as to canon ASoIaF. Thanks

Arya knew it was a Monday when she opened her eyes. Her eyelashes were sticking together through sleep, her dark band t-shirt sticking to her body with sweat.  Sansa always had impeccable timing and Arya knew that school was looming as her sister looked down at her.

Sansa smiled at her in something she must have thought was encouraging. Arya could only groan and fall back on her pillows.

“You are going to school today, right?” Normally Sansa would have been judgmental but this bordered on politeness.

“Yes.” It sounded like an annoyed question.

Sansa still smiled.

“What?” Arya asked.

“I could drive you.”

Arya propped herself up on her elbows. “Why?”

Sansa was quiet for moment. It didn’t seem to Arya that she would be leaving any time soon and she peeled herself out of her bed. She shivered as the air hit her damp skin. She peeled her Raw Power shirt off. Sansa took a prim seat on the bed as Arya dressed herself.

“We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Talk about what?” Arya sheathed her legs in her black skinny jeans.

She wasn’t sure how many more ways Sansa could nonverbally express her exasperation, but Arya couldn’t say that she wasn’t well practiced in bringing it out of her sister. This one came out as a sigh. Maybe it was because it was early in the morning but Sansa had little patience for it. Sansa made her way out of the room.

“If you won’t make me terribly late, I’ll wait downstairs for you.”

Arya stood there, half-dressed, and hating that everyone in her life was making her feel horribly guilty.

“Sansa,” Arya said. Her sister stopped in the doorway and turned to face her. Her face was bright and pretty the way it always was. Arya couldn’t fault her for that but she also couldn’t fault herself for wanting to be alone. “I need to drive myself today.”

Sansa nodded curtly.

“But thanks.” Arya’s smile was forced but Sansa smiled back anyway.

It wasn’t hard to gauge. She was going to see every single person of this godforsaken town that she hated and face them with the knowledge of her most secret shame. For once she was thankful that Gendry was years ahead of her and wouldn’t be found in any of her classes. He was the only other person that knew, but Arya really had Sansa to thank for that. In any case, she didn’t anticipate anyone else discovering the truth about her. That wasn’t about to make the day any easier.

As if an omen, the moment she drove into school, she saw a motorcycle parked out front. It was in the senior lot so Arya drove right past it. But it was a blatant sight amongst the Porche’s and Mercedes’ Jaguars. Gendry didn’t drive his car to school anymore. He had a delinquent half-brother that had a habit of vandalism. And Arya never missed the looks he got from the rebellious preppy girls as they watched Gendry-From-the-Wrong-Side-of-the-Tracks-Waters ride in on his motorcycle.

It was predictable and irritating, though he never seemed to notice. That was even more irritating, though why she was contemplating that anymore was a mystery to even herself.

Gendry was a thing of the past and she had better get used to it.

Those girls were like Sansa and would shriek if they even got the slightest bit of motor oil on them anyway. Arya really didn’t see the attraction.

Then again, she didn’t think that she had exactly tended towards the conventional. This couldn’t be any more clear to her when she walked into school. She rarely got to her locker without being ogled. She was the little sister of the Ethereal Sansa Stark who had at one point, thrown an orange so hard at her that she got juice on her cotillion dress.

Today was different, however. Eyes were boring into her no more than usual, but she knew her own paranoia was making it more extreme. There were two minutes to homeroom where a significant amount of less people would be judging her for merely existing.

Arya shoved her books from her locker into her messenger bag.

Somehow she was regretting Sansa’s offer to drive her. Strangely, she had somehow found an ally in all of this and though she would never admit it to anyone else, she wished she had her by her side right now.

Miraculously at that moment, Sansa rounded the corner, talking with Margaery. Arya did her best to blend in; sure that her sister would ignore her as she usually did when they were in school. But azure eyes found her and she smiled comfortingly.

“Hey, Arya.”

Arya was suddenly sent spiraling back to the reality of misery. She slammed her locker closed. “ _What_?”

Aegon Targaryen held up his hands in a sign of surrender. Arya restrained from rolling her eyes, a feat in itself. She didn’t have the patience to deal with the likes of Aegon Targaryen in a normal day, let alone today. Although he had the conventional good looks of the upper crest and captained most of the sports teams, he had this strange fixation that he should be nice to her just because he ran in the same circles as her sister.

“Are you alright?”

It was very irritating.

“Fine,” Arya said shortly. “What do you want? I’m going to be late.”

Aegon was in her class but always seemed to find his way to the parties that Sansa went to. Arya was less concerned about this and cared very little for such trivialities.

He didn’t seem to be put off by her personality as most people did. For once, she wished he didn’t have to be so polite. He and Sansa would be perfect for each other. But he always seemed to be talking to _her_ and not her sister. Not that Sansa would have noticed if Aegon had decided to court her at all. She had her own shadow and it was infinitely more gruesome than Aegon could ever be. That’s what Arya said to her sister but Sansa always shrugged at the mention of Sandor Clegane.

“Just seeing how you were,” Aegon said casually like they were some of casual friend thing. “Is your sister going to make it tonight?”

Arya almost growled in her indifference to this conversation. “To what?”

“My place,” Aegon illuminated. “There’s going to be this really—“

“I don’t know,” Arya said, not really caring what sort of hip club DJ boring people were interested in. “Why don’t you ask her?”

_And stop bothering me._

She knew that her reputation certainly didn't need more attention now, so she just left him there. It was the best-case scenario and the bell had just rung. Maybe pretty people didn’t get tardies but she wasn’t one of them and she already had enough accumulated to get another detention.

As if her life wasn’t already complicated enough.

Sansa found her at lunch. Arya sat on the patio where no one could bother her. She didn’t think he would come looking for her, but she knew he had auto-shop this period and they were sometimes allowed to skip out. She was starting to think that the idea of him not wanting to find her would be more hurtful than him actually finding her.

Outside was safer.

“What are you doing here?” Arya asked in surprise.

“Love you too,” Sansa said dryly. As if she didn't know better than to not take it personally. “I’m taking an art class this semester.”

“Art?” Arya asked. “I don’t think they consider flawlessly applying foundation art.”

Instead of her usual snappy retort, Sansa only smiled. “It’s a requirement for graduation. We all can’t be prodigies in the jazz band.”

Arya frowned. She disliked the mention of it, but it should be inconsequential to her now. She still couldn’t bear to get back to her drums.

“So you’ll be able to graduate early now?” Arya asked.

Sansa was only a year older than her but she was so proactive and ambitious with her studies that she would have been able to graduate the same time as Jon. If Jon had ever graduated. Gendry was a year older and they would be graduating at the same time.

Jon always joked that Gendry would never get his diploma but Arya always knew better. He could accomplish things he applied himself at. But the only thing he applied himself at was his music and his cars.

Typical.

“Looks like it.”

“What will Margaery do without her fellow queen of the kingdom,” Arya teased. But Sansa didn’t retort. Her eyes only looked sad. Arya didn’t have it in her to get into a feelings sharing marathon at the moment.

“The appointment’s tomorrow,” Sansa said. “I can pick you up after.”

Arya looked around wildly, her awareness heightened of the stoners that were milling around.

“You bring that up here?” Arya asked.

“What, you’d rather text it to you so Mom would find out?” Sansa asked. “No one knows what we’re talking about. You’re being paranoid.”

Arya flashed back to earlier that day and Aegon Targaryen’s annoying courtesies.

“I just came to say that you have to call them back to verify the appointment.”

Arya refrained from looking to see if anyone was listening.

“Okay.”

“Arya.”

“I said _okay_ ,” Arya snapped. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“You have the number?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Just try and remember.

“I’m not likely to forget.”

Arya had made her sister exasperated for the second time in four hours. That must be a record.

“I should get back to class,” Sansa said. She rose to her feet. “I’ll see you at home.”

Arya didn’t respond. Sansa smiled all the same.

She was good at that. She was good at smiling and making it feel like there was nothing to worry about. But Arya knew better. Sansa was good at pretending but Arya saw the truth of the matter. And the truth of the matter was that she had never been more miserable. Worse than when Jon abandoned her. This was the consequence and it was all her fault.

She wasn’t blind to that.

Arya finished the school without incident. But all that really meant was that something worse was going to happen after. She wasn’t wrong. She had avoided interaction with any other rich kids that day but when she thought she had made it to the solace and comfort of her Nymeria, but a gaggle of girlish giggles interrupted her just when she had put the key in the car door.

She looked up just in time to hear the distant rumble of a motorcycle starting up. Gendry shoved his helmet over his head and let the bike rev. Gendry was always the type of person that those types of girls used to rebel against their fathers. Whenever he passed, girls would whisper his name excitedly.

Arya felt nauseated.

It was only when she got home and threw up did she realize it might be something else.

She ran to Sansa’s room and flipped through her address book. She was certain Sansa was the only living person who kept addresses in a physical book anymore but she wasn’t disappointed. Sansa was anal and kept the address to the clinic in her predictably neat penmanship. Arya dialed the number immediately.

Arya paced the room as they verified all her information. She found this certainly tedious, especially when they asked all the questions she didn’t want to answer. Maybe this was why Sansa needed them to verify. Her sister couldn’t know all this about her.

“I’m sixteen.”

She could hear the judgmental silence at the end of the phone. Technically she had been fifteen when this melodrama came to pass, but she knew that sounded even more trashy.

“Yes. Two months since… conception.”

 _Conception_ sounded bitter in her mouth. That night had been one of the most bitter. And nowhere near sweet.

“Two months since I’ve been sexually active.”

Arya fiddled with the objects accumulating on her dresser. It burned with shame. She could never be ashamed of having it happen. _Sexually active_ made it seem shameful. But the only thing she really felt bad about was who it had to be with.

It could have been anyone besides Gendry and everything could have been alright. Even if it had the same result, Gendry would be here. He would be her friend and he would help her through it. That’s what she told herself.

But in all honesty, she only ever would have done it with Gendry. And in all honesty, Gendry had been distant and cold towards her in the days leading up to Jon’s departure. 

_Jon’s departure._

As if he didn’t have a choice. As if he didn’t just leave with no word. No word but this. Arya picked up the butterfly knife that lay on her dresser as she heard the receptionist ramble at the other end of the phone.

Jon had very little to pack. The night he announced he was leaving he only spent thirty minutes before all of his belongings were gathered. Arya couldn’t bear to look at her mother. She knew what she would find there. Arya did wonder if she would even bother to show the tiniest bit of remorse. But knowing Catelyn and her relationship to Jon, she doubted it.

Within an hour Jon was gone with only a kiss on the forehead to his little sister. Robb hadn’t even come back from school for the party. Bran was still in the hospital and Arya couldn’t even tell what Rickon was thinking since he started going to therapy.

When Arya finished barricading herself in her room she found a nicely polished butterfly knife that had known to belong to Jon. In a fury she had thrown his parting gift against the wall. In that moment she knew that he was never coming back. And she knew why.

Only hours later when she had returned to her room did she fish it out again and place it back on her dresser never to be touched again.

She touched it now. She ran her fingers over the hilt and felt every wrong thing that she had ever done. He would be so ashamed and angry with her. She wasn’t fit to carry his prized possession.

But she did anyway. It was the only thing she had left of him.

Dinner was a thing of torture. Everyone had already sat down to eat when Arya thundered down the stairs. She took a seat beside her sister. She was sure that was uncharacteristic behavior from the look her mother gave her. But she just loaded her plate and started inhaling her food.

Sansa cast her a look of alarm. Her fork was halfway to her mouth before she realized what she was doing and that everyone was staring her.

“Have we suddenly started to say grace or something?” Arya asked. Sansa primly pushed the food around on her plate.

“You’re quite hungry,” Catelyn noted.  Rickon laughed. He was too far away for Arya to kick. Sansa shot Arya another pointed look.

“It’s good,” Arya said weakly before trying to eat like a more appropriate lady. She watched Sansa for clues as to how to accomplish this.

Arya swallowed. She had been under the impression that once she had her personal issues sorted things would be less complicated at home. She should have realized that this was just a result and the true problem had started before the rest had.

“Does this have something to do with my gardenias?”

Arya was stumped. “Your what?”

“The flowerbed,” Sansa muttered to Arya under her breath.

Arya felt herself pale. That was another consequence she had not enacted on purpose. She had been on her way home that day when another wave of nausea had hit her. She had been lucky enough to make it out of the car and hadn’t given a thought to what she had thrown up on outside.

“I’m pleased you’ve decided to grace us with your presence,” Catelyn said measuredly. “But your foray into rebellion has been quite enough.”

“Mom, I never meant—“

“Out at all hours of the night, partying with those delinquents you call friends.”

Arya couldn’t look her mother in the eye. She just stared down at her plate. Just thinking about those _deliquents_ that she hadn't seen in months gave her heartburn.

“Cat,” Ned said softly.

“You give her no discipline,” Catelyn reprimanded him. Sansa’s hand slid under the table and held Arya’s. She squeezed back. “We’re lucky she hasn’t ended up—“

Arya’s head shot up. She heard the word hanging on the air. She and Sansa shared a look of dismay.

“We love you, Arya,” Ned assured her, interrupting his wife. “But your mother’s right. We need to start enforcing your curfew.”

“I know,” Arya agreed instantly. “I’m sorry.”

Ned and Catelyn looked at each other with astonishment.

“Did I hear that right?” Ned asked, gracing his youngest daughter with a smile.

“You’re right,” Arya said. “I won’t go out anymore. I promise.”

“We’re not saying not ever,” Catelyn said, softening.

“I won’t,” Arya insisted. Catelyn’s eyes hardened again.

“If this is some sort of trick…”

“Mom,” Sansa pleaded. “Give her a break. Please.”

It was Sansa’s turn for the family’s eyes to be turned on her in surprise. Sansa wouldn’t be caught dead defending Arya and she certainly never really opposed her mother before.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” Catelyn sighed. “First you quit jazz band and now this.”

“You hated when I played the drums,” Arya accused. She felt the tension rise again but she couldn’t stop herself.

“It was better than you out at all times of the night, neglecting your school work, barricading yourself in your room.”

“Well I wish I could be ask cold as you, but I just can’t,” Arya said harshly. “I can’t just forget hat Jon ever existed.”

“ _Arya_.” Her father could be frightening when he wanted to be.

“What?” Arya retorted. “His name hasn’t even been mentioned since he disappeared. It’s like no one cares.”

“We care,” Ned said. “But you can’t speak to your mother that way.”

“He may not have been her son,” Arya said, “but he was my brother. And I can’t pretend that everything’s alright when it’s not.”

Sansa gripped Arya underneath the table but she shook her sister off. Everything was not okay. Sansa only wanted there to be peace in the household but Arya was never good at pretending.

“He couldn’t stand being in the same house as a woman who despised and resenting him for even existing,” Arya said.

Catelyn’s face was stiff but Arya couldn’t take it anymore.

"No, Mother,” Arya said, getting up from the table violently. “I didn’t vomit in your stupid flowers. Passive aggressive is more Sansa’s style. If I had a problem, I’d be more direct about it.”

No one had time to reprimand her again before she bolted from the table. The front door slammed behind her. Sansa looked at the door, wishing there was something she could do. But her efforts were better expended in the present.

Uncomfortable silence filled the dining room.

“Sansa’s right,” Bran said quietly after a moment. “Arya’s going through a hard time.”

“We’ve given her enough leeway as it is,” Cateyn said curtly, sticking a fork in her salad.

“Please, Mom,” Sansa said. “Just this once.”

Maybe that was the most surprising thing of the night.


	5. Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya was never paramount in expressing her feelings. And when she did, it was never in the healthiest way. But somehow, Sansa understood. And Sansa knew that as much as her little sister denied it, she did express emotions. She did express love. It wasn’t verbally and it was in the back of a Camaro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my favorite chapter to write so far. I know it's been a rough going fic but hopefully you like this chapter as much as I do. I'd also like to add that this story is very musical. When a character is playing something or listening to music, it means a lot whether you know my obscure references or not ;)

The Smallwood Health Clinic was located downtown in Flea Bottom where no one was likely to spot her. Once again, that had been Sansa’s idea. Arya hadn’t given a care to who saw her but as she entered the building, she couldn’t help but be a little thankful for that. Of course her sister was right about every single thing. Even more rumors being spread about Arya would only add to this anxiety.

Arya stepped up to the front. The receptionist’s head was bowed and Arya stood there awkwardly for a moment.

“Hi. I’m here to—“

The girl looked up and Arya was immediately met with familiar green eyes.

 _Shit_.

“Hi, Arya,” Meera smiled. Though this wasn’t the worst possible scenario, running into one of Bran’s best friends Meera Reed at an abortion clinic was not something that she had anticipated.

“Hi, Meera,” Arya said, wishing she could be anywhere but there. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Just interning for now,” Meera said cordially. Meera and Bran were very close and she was probably one of the only people that wouldn’t judge Arya. That being said, she knew Arya and that didn’t bode well for gossip. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Yeah,” Arya said. “My sister made it. I don’t really know…”

“Yes,” Meera said, looking it up on her computer. “You’re in here. Condom?”

“What?” Arya asked.

Meera pointed to the convenient jar on the desk. “They’re free.”

“Thanks but no,” Arya said uncomfortably. “The time for that has kind of come and gone. Obviously.”

Meera gave her a little smile. Maybe she didn’t have a penchant for gossip, but she was too like Bran right now with those knowing and understanding looks. Arya had just about as much guilt as she could take at the moment.

“Well fill this out over there.” Meera handed Arya a clipboard with detailed questions and pointed to the waiting area. “They’ll call your name when they’re ready for you.”

Arya glanced down at the sheet to see a question asking explicit questions for any and all sexual encounters she’d ever had.

She hated that phrase.

Arya looked up to see Meera studying her and realized she had been standing up there for too long. She didn’t like that either.

“No one came with you?” Meera asked kindly. Arya was thankful there was no pity in her voice. “You know you can’t drive yourself home—“

“Yes, I know,” Arya interrupted her hastily. Now was not the time to get into her sad personal life. “My sister’s coming after. I think she has a committee she has to chair or something.”

“No one else?” Meera pressed. That was as probing as the girl could get but Arya still didn’t like it.

“Like who?” Arya asked measuredly.

“I went to Acorn Hall the other night,” she replied conversationally. “Gendry was playing. When are you guys going to start doing shows again?”

Arya knew she was just trying to be nice but she really didn’t need the reminder.

“So everyone knows,” Arya stated. Not that there was anyone else lining down the block to get her pregnant.

“No,” Meera said. “Bran and I just really liked going to see you play. Before.”

 _Before_ hung on the air.

“Have you been to see him?” Arya asked. “Since everything?”

“I visited him in the hospital.”

More guilt curdled her gut and she wasn’t sure that she could hate herself any more than she did at that moment.

“He’s happy to be home,” Meera added softly. Arya hated being coddled even more. “With his family. You.”

“Thanks,” Arya said sharply, taking the clipboard with her.

“He looked lonely up there,” Meera added before Arya could dash away. "Gendry."

Just because she had stopped playing, she didn’t know why she expected Gendry to. But she knew.

“He’s not lonely,” Arya said. “He’s up there playing, you know he’s not lonely. You’d see that if you saw him after he got off the stage.”

Arya didn’t wait for any more horrible emotions to be drudged up. She sat in the waiting room and filled out the form.

Every excruciating detail.

The first was easy, relatively speaking. No sexual transmitted diseases and she wasn’t nearly as unconventional as everyone seemed to believe. She had always looked young for her age. That was the whole part of it. She looked younger than she was and she was sitting in a health clinic that was known to have its patients get red paint thrown on them by religious conservatives.

She was staring at a piece of paper demanding to detail every single thought or breath she had of a night she couldn’t let herself think about and she realized the other women in the waiting room were staring at her.

Meera’s eyes were soft.

His breath had been hot. She had never heard him like that before. His voice was dark, his hand gripping her arm and pulling her through the crowd. Her head had been dizzy from the strobes and her anger and her sadness and him.

She knew that when he ordered her in his car. She hadn’t seen him for weeks and suddenly he was there. He was picking her up when she never asked him and she hated him for it.  But his eyes were on her in a way that she could never name. But she knew it that night.

His face was illuminated by the red light and she never thought that one stupid boy next to her could bring everything crumbling down.

“Arya.”

She blinked. She was still on the third question. She had thought the voice would be deep. Succinct, but comforting. It was only Meera. The girl’s hand was on her shoulder. Arya was holding the pen so tight in her hand and it had been digging into the questionnaire.

His skin had been slick against her. Her hand had pressed against his window and she could never escape those piercing blue eyes of his. And that night she had cried. Because she was selfish and she had ruined everything.

“He’s on his way.”

Arya looked up sharply. "What?"

“I didn’t tell him anything,” Meera said. “But I called him.”

Arya burst out of the double doors, taking a breath full of fresh air at last. She bit the inside of her cheek and could finally exhale. There wasn't any kind of reality where she was going to see him at a clinic like this. Not only was it undeniably cruel, but she couldn't see him there. She just couldn't.

So she ran.

She didn't even know why he would come in the first place.

She blasted the air condition on her face and rolled the windows down all the way. She couldn’t hear the soft hum of the sensual voice on the radio but the wind kept her present. 

She had only been driving a few miles before she pulled over to the side of the road. She had forgotten that Sansa would be coming for her later. She should call her to let her know the appointment hadn't even happened, though Sansa didn't need to know her reasons for bailing. She fumbled for her phone. Her fingers were shaky over the keys and she couldn’t seem to open her contacts.

She hadn’t even heard the low rumble of his motorcycle. His steps were thundering and she didn’t look up until he rapped impatiently on her cardoor.

She flinched.

“Who is Meera Reed and why does she have my number?”

This was worse than she could have possibly imagined.

She couldn’t look up. His voice was hard. It was rare for him to ever be angry but she knew he had a reason to be angry at her. And still she couldn’t help but keep repeating to herself that he came.

She finally forced herself to look up to his face. He was wearing his leather jacket and holding his helmet in his hands. But the moment she looked up at him, his face dissolved.

“What happened?” His voice was soft. He reached in through the window and unlocked the door so he could open it.

“I’m sorry,” Arya said, her voice thick. “She’s friends with Bran. He must have gotten it.”

“Are you alright?” he asked urgently. He pulled her out of the car, his hands tight on her upper arms. She couldn't understand how she found it comforting. His voice was still hard but she could hear it was more concern than anything else. She still couldn’t figure out why he had come at all. “Arya.”

She leaned against the door. “I’m sorry.”

He was only staring at her. His face was a picture of awe like he had never seen her before.

“I’m tired of feeling like I’m fucking crazy.” She raked her fingers through her loose hair. His eyes followed the motion.

She wasn’t sure if she had initiated it, but her arms were around his neck and he was holding her. His embrace was tight and she shuddered.

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice rumbling in her ear.

She pulled away, hating how reluctant her body was. Things were supposed to get less complicated, not more. But now everything was even more twisted.

“I’ll take you home.”

She knew she should resist his offer. But he had already put his hand out for her car keys. She peeled them out of the ignition and handed them to him.

“What were you doing down here?” Gendry asked. She knew that he lived not too far away. Maybe he would think that he was just the most convenient ride but she could still smell him and was more confused than ever. But he didn't have to ask. He just wanted to hear it from her mouth. "You should have waited for me."

She should have. She always should just wait for him. But whenever it came to the two of them, she ran in the opposite direction as fast as her legs could carry her. And she knew his incorrect assumption. He was only driving her because he thought she was hopped up in anesthesia. She couldn't find it in herself to correct him.

She followed his steps in a fog. He held out his helmet to her. She hadn’t been on the back of his bike since the previous summer. Sometimes he would take them to concerts they had outside in town. But that seemed like a dream now.

Arya shook her head. He gave her a look and shoved his helmet solidly over her head anyway. It almost felt as though the past months had never happened.

“Someone can come back for your car later,” Gendry said before pausing. “I could. If you needed me to.”

He had already did more than he should ever need to. She only shook her head vigorously, not able to speak through the visor. He exhaled. Sometimes she wondered if he would be happy if he never met her.

He guided her to his motorcycle and straddled it, revving it to life. “Well, come on.”

Arya tentatively got on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. And now she really could pretend like this was like they used to be. She felt his stomach contract beneath his shirt and held close to him.

He turned onto her street and Arya could see that Sansa’s car was in the driveway. She must have just got home. She didn’t relish this newest installment. Gendry hesitated at the end of the street.

She slid up the visor.

“What are you doing?”

But she knew. This was the first time he had been to her house since he dropped her off months ago.

“You can drop me off in the driveway,” she said hesitantly. “If you want.”

He looked back at her. Quiet as ever but she found that his eyes always spoke volumes to her. He was scared and she was scared and this shouldn’t be happening to anyone.

“Or I can walk if you want to head out,” she said, resigned. He said nothing but eased the bike forward gently to drop in her driveway. She knew that his arrival would be heard and it was only a matter of time.

Arya dismounted and handed his helmet back.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “You didn’t have to come.”

“You’re not supposed drive yourself home after.”

She didn’t know if that was him accusing her or just a statement. But either way, she knew he still wasn’t aware of what she didn't go through because of him. She knew she should tell him but she just couldn’t. There was a huge abyss between the two of them and she never felt like she could bridge it. And she knew that she shouldn’t.

“What are you doing here?”

Sansa was standing out front, her arms crossed over her chest.

“I’m supposed to pick you up—“

“Yeah, I know,” Arya said quickly, making the decision that Gendry shouldn’t be pulled into this. “Sorry. Gendry gave me a ride home.”

She looked over at him but he didn’t look at her.

“Why?” Sansa asked coldly. She could always count on her sister to be the fierce protector now.

“He was there,” Arya stated.

“What happened to your car?” Sansa cast Gendry a look. He wasn’t looking at her. He was hunched over the dials on his motorcycle.

“Gendry gave me a ride home,” Arya repeated. Sansa just sighed with irritation. She walked down the steps and held out her hand.

“Well where are your keys?” she asked. “I’ll go pick it up.”

Arya turned to Gendry. He simply held out his hand and dropped the keys into her sister’s palm. Sansa looked at Arya in an annoyingly accusatory manner. Arya felt like she owed it to Gendry to apologize but she wasn’t exactly sure what for.

“Thanks for bringing her home.” Sansa didn’t sound very thankful.

“I wasn’t going to just leave her there.” He sounded defensive as he eased his helmet over his head.

“Thanks.” Arya’s voice was soft and he looked at her for a moment, his eyes not so hard.

“Goodbye, Arya.” He slid his visor down and revved the motorcycle to life. Arya stepped away and he peeled down the street without looking back.

“Well isn’t he a ray of sunshine,” Sansa said. Arya didn’t answer but could feel her sister’s expectant gaze. “Okay, you have to tell me everything that happened.”

Sansa pulled Arya inside.

Arya didn’t know what to say besides the truth.

“I couldn’t do it.”

“That, I gathered,” Sansa replied. “We’ll get to that consequential decision in a second. What was he doing there? Did you tell him?”

“Of course not,” Arya said. “Did it look like he knew anything? He still hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you."

“You did hear the way he talked to me.”

“Did you call him to get you?” Sansa asked.

“No,” Arya said bitterly. “Meera Reed stupidly did that.”

“Meera?” Sansa asked. “Bran’s Meera?”

“She works there.”

“Why did she call him?” Sansa asked softly.

“She must have just...” Arya trailed off. 

"Seen the obvious?" Sansa asked. "You couldn't do it."

Arya didn't want to know what she would or would not have done if the threat of Gendry hadn't made itself apparent.

“What?” Sansa asked comfortingly at Arya's silence.

“I keep ruining everything,” Arya said. “Just like now. Jon. Now Gendry. This wouldn’t be happening if it weren’t for me. And I just kept thinking about that night and it’s all I could think about.”

“You love him.”

“No, I don’t," Arya snapped. "He’s stupid.” But not as stupid as she was.

“No arguments here,” Sansa said. “That still doesn’t mean anything.”

“I don’t,” Arya said. “He was my friend and then I made a mistake. That’s all.”

“If it was a mistake,” Sansa said, “then why couldn’t you go through with it?”

"I only left because I didn't want him to find me in there," Arya said. "I've put him through enough."

"And you'll be putting him through a lot more when he finds out the truth," Sansa said. "You're not going to schedule another appointment, are you?"

Arya's silence said it all. 

“If he didn’t care about you, he wouldn’t have come,” Sansa said. “That’s just logic.”

“You heard him,” Arya said. “He’s not a bad person. He wasn’t just going to leave me stranded.”

“I saw the way he looked at you.”

“What look?” Arya asked. “He looks with his eyes like everyone else.”

“He offered to go out of his way to pick up your car.”

“He lives right near there.”

“And his face when I said I would do it.”

“Alright, stop,” Arya said. She couldn’t hear any more.

 Sansa looked at her consolingly. Arya wished she would just stop.

“Arya,” Sansa sighed. “I’m glad you trusted me with this.”

Arya finally smiled. 

Sansa didn't stop there.

“But you know how irresponsible you’ve been.”

Arya didn’t know if this conversation was any better.

“Well I refused the condoms at the clinic, so probably,” Arya said shortly. Sansa wasn’t in the mood for her jibes. “Considering this is my first time getting knocked up, I would say I’ve been very responsible up until now.”

“Up until now,” Sansa said shortly.

“There were circumstances.”

“There are always circumstances,” Sansa said. “I just thought you were taught common sense.”

“Who would have been there to teach me?” Arya asked. “Mom? You?"

Sansa looked at the ground, hurt.

"I'm sorry," Arya said. "I know what you’ve been going through.”

Sansa paled. “Arya, don’t—“

Arya knew Sansa wanted to talk about her personal life about as much as Arya wanted to talk about hers.

“--But you had Mom. I was never a perfect daughter. I had Jon.”

Arya hated making her sister look so sad. But she couldn’t deny that it was the truth.

“It was that summer in Braavos, wasn’t it?” Sansa shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter,” Arya said evasively.

“Dad never should have outsourced for your lessons. The kinds of things they’re into over there,” Sansa said, almost back to her scandalized self.

"You're right," Arya said dryly. "If I hadn't gone overseas I would still be an unsullied virgin."

Sansa didn't take the bait like she thought she would. “Gendry spent a lot more time with Jon that summer. He was here almost every day."

"So?"

"You didn’t know that," Sansa said. "I didn’t understand that until he took you home that night. That was the night, wasn’t it?”

“What night?” Arya asked.

“ _Arya_.”

“Nothing that happened in Braavos mattered.”

That might as well have ben an admission.

“But that night did?” Sansa pressed.

“Just because something matters doesn’t mean it should,” Arya said. “I know that now.”

“Well you're not going back,” Sansa said begrudgingly. “Which I have to say is a terrible idea. Actually going through with this. You are going through with this.”

"Yes." Arya finally said it out loud. “And I know."

“You can't possibly know how hard this is going to be for you," Sansa said. After a moment, she softened. I don’t want you to go through with this."

“I always took the harder road,” Arya said indifferently.

“I know that.” She never thought Sansa sounded so sad before. Traumatized, maybe. But never actually sad.

“He’s my best friend,” Arya said distantly. “Or he was.”

“I know it’s hard for you to care for people,” Sansa said. “Especially after Jon.”

“You want me to be in love with Gendry Waters?” Arya asked doubtfully.

“Not really, no. But it’s better.”

“Better than what?” Arya asked.

“Not being able to love anything at all.”

Arya had never looked at it like that before. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to look at it like that right now. But Sansa was right. Every person she let herself open up to seemed to leave her. She didn’t like looking at her psychology.

“I love you,” Arya said quietly.

Sansa was speechless for a moment. Never in her life did Arya think irresponsible sex would lead to bonding with her sister. But Sansa reached for her and pulled Arya into a tight embrace.

Arya patted her uncomfortably before allowing her arms to wrap around her. Sansa laughed.

“I’m going to help you,” Sansa promised. “I’m going to be here for you now. I know I wasn’t really around when this happened.”

“You have your own life,” Arya said. “Everything you were dealing with… You still love. You still love people. Even after what he did to you.”

Sansa averted her eyes. “We’re not the same person.”

“You’re the mature one,” Arya said. “I make the bad decisions.”

“You do too,” Sansa added. “Love. You do. You did.”

“What happened in the back of that car wasn' tlove,” Arya said candidly. Sansa made a face.

“A car?”

They both smiled.

Arya was never paramount in expressing her feelings. And when she did, it was never in the healthiest way. But somehow, Sansa understood. And Sansa knew that as much as her little sister denied it, she did express emotions. She did express love. It wasn’t verbally and it was in the back of a Camaro. And she would go on denying it as long as she was able.

And she was reaping the consequences.

“You’re going to have to tell Mom and Dad,” Sansa said.

“I know,” Arya said. “I guess there’s no chance of me hiding it.”

“On your frame?” Sansa smiled. “No.”


	6. Street Spirit (Fade Out)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya really hoped she wasn’t having a panic attack, but that’s what it felt like. Sansa was the one who had her fair share of panic attacks. Arya just cried when she was angry. But she sure didn’t feel like she was angry now. And she hated it. She hated how out of control everything was.
> 
> “Can we go?” Arya asked. “Please? I’ll tell him later, I just can’t—“
> 
> “Hi.”
> 
> He was breathless too. He was sweating. That was probably from the stage lights and not from the fact that he had been running.
> 
> But he had ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally a lot longer. I had to cut it in half because of length. It's kind of a cliff hanger, but the next chapter will pick up right where it left off.

Arya was halfway out the window when Sansa found her.

It was becoming an annoying habit to say the least.

“Get your kicks now,” Sansa said, closing the door behind her. “In a few weeks you won’t even have the option.”

Arya hesitated, her legs straddling the windowsill.  “Don’t you have your own personal life to obsess over?”

“What are you doing?”

"Isn't it obvious?" She couldn't resist. Sansa just looked at her blankly and Arya sighed. “This was your idea.”

Sansa raised her eyebrows. “I’m fairly certain I didn’t suggest crawling out the window and sneaking off while pregnant.”

“ _Shut up,_ ” Arya said hastily.

“Relax,” Sansa said. “Guilt has made Mom and Dad enthralled in a movie that Bran brought home. They’ll be detained for a few hours. I think it’s an epic.”

Arya considered that for a moment. Bran had also found his way on her side and was one of the only people that knew about her at the moment. He was also strangely intuitive and she couldn’t help but think a part of it was for her benefit. Not that he knew her plan for the evening.

“Now tell me what you’re doing,” Sansa repeated.

Arya knew she was going to deeply regret this. “There’s supposed to be a show at Acorn Hall.”

“Fancy some after hours moshing in your delicate state?”

“I’m not delicate,” Arya snapped.

“Yet.”

Arya was lucky that she wasn't starting to show yet, but Sansa was right. It wouldn't be long before everyone saw her for what she really was. 

“Gendry should be there,” Arya said softly.

Sansa was quiet for a moment. She was always quiet when Arya brought up Gendry and it was more than vexing. She wished her sister wasn’t such a romantic.

“Like I said,” Arya continued brusquely. “Your idea.”

“Just because I don’t think you should be lying to him about his baby, doesn’t mean I condone you sneaking out on a school night and getting you into more trouble.”

“Can you  _not_ —“

“Speak the truth?”

“This is veering into soap opera territory.”

“That’s your own fault,” Sansa said. “Relax with the acrobatics, 007. I’ll give you a ride.”

 Sansa held out her hand for Arya to get down. 

Arya ignored her, studying her suspiciously. “Why would you want take me to a club?”

“I’m sure there’s something for everyone,” Sansa said optimistically.

“You’ve never been to anything more raucous than a chamber quartet,” Arya said dryly.

Sansa didn’t take the bait. “Get down before you hurt yourself. We’re going out.”

Arya let Sansa help her down, probably the last time she would be graceful.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“ _You_  said—“

“He would find out either way were my exact words,” Sansa said. “What do you want?”

For the first time, Arya had to ask herself that question. Of course she had been doing what she thought she should do and what she owed other people. And never in her life would she ever think to want having a child. And she didn’t. What she didn’t want was to have Gendry hating her. No matter what happened between them, she missed her friend. And that didn’t mean they could ever go back to that. But she didn’t have it in her to go back to the clinic. And that only left one option.

“I gave up the right for what I want,” Arya said. “I know that.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t know what that is.”

“I want to give it up for adoption,” Arya said honestly. “I want to give it to someone who won’t screw it up.”

“You think you’d screw it up,” Sansa said lightly.

“I can’t have healthy relationships on my own that don’t completely fail,” Arya said. “I can’t imagine having a kid.”

“That’s very responsible.”

“Not something you’d think about me, is it?” Arya asked.

“I never thought you cared about what I think,” Sansa said.

“You’re my sister,” Arya replied. “It’s kind of unavoidable.”

“You don’t care about what anyone else thinks.”

Arya shrugged.

Sansa looked critically at Arya's outfit. “Is that what you wear to clubs?”

It was a far cry from the type of clubs that Sansa went to and what Arya had donned the-night-that-shall-not-be-named. Jeans and her boots were a safe bet. Arya was sure that was all the sibling bonding they would have that night. Or at least that was what she hoped.

Sansa seemed more practical about sneaking out that Arya was. When they reached downstairs their parents were indeed invested in some sort of miniseries. Arya was relieved that Mom and Dad had finally finished their West Wing marathon.

Sansa swept past the living room as quiet as a shadow and Arya followed suit out the front door.

“You really don’t have to be so theatrical,” Sansa suggested.

“I’ll keep that in mind when you and Margaery go to Aegon Targaryen’s beach house.”

They piled into Sansa’s pristine care and she turned on the ignition.

“Who?”

Arya’s stomach lurched as Sansa swerved out of the driveway and onto the highway.

“Aegon Targaryen,” Arya said. “Blonde hair. Dark eyes. Looks like every other jock you hang out with. He said he invited you to some party.”

“He was talking to you?” Sansa asked. They were passing the other cars at an alarming rate.

“You know who he is,” Arya insisted. “I’m sure his hair reflects the light of a million diamonds. Wasn’t Margaery into him?”

“Oh. Right.”

Sansa said nothing more on the matter. Arya didn’t blame her. Margaery was exceedingly boring and although their children would be beautiful, she couldn’t count for them in the brains department.

“How do you know he’ll be there?”

“Aegon?” Arya asked in confusion.

Sansa cast her a tired look. “Gendry.”

Still, his name sent Arya into a shame tailspin. She wished her sister would stop saying it.

“We used to play there,” Arya said.

Sansa looked at her sympathetically. “It was your decision, right?”

From her tone of voice, Arya knew that she hadn’t been talking about the band.

“What do you mean?” Arya asked.

Sansa looked almost embarrassed, but pressed on determinedly.

“He didn’t… force you.”

“God, no!” Arya sputtered. This wasn’t happening. “Why would he…  _no_. It wasn’t like that.”

It had occurred to her in the midst of passion that might be a conclusion that people jumped to. He had initially been Jon’s best friend. Not hers. But when they were together, it wasn’t like that at all. He had never asked anything of her and was the one person that made her unashamed.

“You’re asking me this now?”

“I’m sorry.” At least she had the courtesy to apologize. “I didn’t want to think about it before.”

“Well you clearly don’t have to think about it now.”

“You have to understand,” Sansa said. “He could have been… frustrated. If you saw the way he looked at you. Some men do that.”

Arya scowled at that. She certainly didn’t think about the way Gendry looked at her. When she saw him, he only looked angry. But Sansa had said something even more disturbing that that. 

“If I ever see Meryn Trant again,” Arya vowed, “I will kick his teeth so far down his throat, his lungs will chatter.”

Sansa took a slight intake of breath at the name. But she covered it up with a smile, as she always did. “Poetic for you.”

That was as much as Sansa would say referring to him.

“Again?" Sansa realized. "You saw him before?”

And then it clicked.

“So that was you that Sandor saw.”

Arya had only once ventured into a house party populated by the upper crest. That was before Jon had left and the largest concern Arya had was the crowd that Sansa had been hanging around.

“ _Sandor_ ,” Arya seethed.

Sandor Clegane had indeed been there, but she didn’t think he had seen her. He didn’t make a move like he had. Then again, he never did what she expected and she never understood why Sansa wasn’t worried about him.

“He isn’t all bad,” Sansa reasoned. “If it weren’t for him Meryn might have done worse than he did.”

“Sansa.” Arya didn’t like how relatively calm Sansa was when talking about her ex-boyfriend. And truth be told, she had never even heard her sister refer to him after the very permanent break-up. Sansa called it a break-up. Law enforcement would call it something else.

“It’s true,” Sansa said.

“Trant was Clegane’s friend,” Arya said. “You can’t trust him after what happened.”

“Sandor doesn’t have friends.”

“Are you his friend?” Arya asked. She had a suspicion. Clegane may surround himself with rich friends, but that was what was so dangerous about him. He distanced himself from his own family that wasn’t necessarily rich but definitely more than the lower class. He was a terror and only Sansa seemed to be the one that wasn’t afraid of him. 

And still, Sansa didn’t answer the question.

“Is that what you were doing there that night?” Sansa asked instead. “Looking for Meryn? He could have hurt you. 

“Like he hurt you.”

Sansa was quiet for a moment. Arya wasn’t wrong. 

“I know,” Arya finally said.

“Are you that much of an adrenaline junkie?” It was the first time Sansa sounded actually angry at her. 

“No.”

“You went there for me?” Sansa asked, almost in disbelief.

“Of course.”

“Why? I’ve been nothing but horrid to you.”

They had finally arrived at the club and Sansa parked at the curb.

“We’re always that way to each other,” Arya said indifferently. Sansa looked at her with sad eyes that she wished she could just shake off.

“No,” Sansa insisted. “I love you. I do.”

Arya figited uncomfortably.

"Everything that’s happened lately has been awful,” Sansa continued. “And I’m not just talking about your latest foray into rebellion in the backseat of a Camaro.”

Arya suppressed a smile.

“I love you,” Sansa repeated as if Arya hadn’t heard her before. “And if that stupid mechanic ever hurt you… I’d do something poetic too.”

Arya couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Everyone knew that she was more capable of hurting someone, but she had never thought Sansa ever thought anything like that. They were blood but Arya had come to the conclusion that was all that they ever could be. They were too different.

Arya leaned in across the seat and hugged her sister.

Sansa was still with shock. But after a moment, she hugged Arya back fiercely.

“It figures that violence brings out your better nature,” Sansa laughed.

“You shouldn’t worry.” Arya knew she had to address it. “It wasn’t him. I hurt myself.”

Sansa pulled back, her perfectly sculpted eyebrows furrowed.“He should know better.”

“It’s too late anyway.”

“Not if you don’t want it to be.”

It was perfect timing in that case. They were already there. Arya stared out of the windshield for a moment, unable to move.

“I brought my fake,” Sansa announced. Arya knew there was nowhere to go but forward.

“It’s alright,” Arya said. “I know the bouncer.”

Of course she did.

Inside, it was crowded. That threw her off. It was a Thursday night and she couldn’t think of why so many people had gathered. That would make it infinitely more difficult to find him. He usually towered over the crowd but the throng was sufficiently aggravating. 

“I’ll go to the bar,” Sansa said over the din. Arya was sure by ‘bar’ Sansa meant the tiny kiosk that served drinks in the back. Sansa let go of her arm and Arya felt swallowed by the crowd.

Fear cuts deeper than swords, she told herself. Her drumming master always told her that. But now she felt all her courage leave her. Of course this wasn’t the right place to do this. Everyone in here was drunk and violent and dank. She had made the same mistake before and she knew she was making it again. She never did learn. Garages weren’t the places to do this and neither were seedy dives.

Arya turned on her heel. She would be scorned if it were known about what a coward she was. She had every intent of running out, Sansa or no. But the decision had no sooner crossed her mind than when she heard it.

Familiar plucking of a guitar sounded through the crackling speakers. Girls started screaming and Arya’s stomach dropped. She had a sickening feeling of déjà vu and she knew exactly what was happening.

She didn’t need to hear his rumbling voice at the microphone. She was too short to look over shoulders. When Jon was still at home they would go to shows and Gendry would lift her up on his shoulders so she could see the band.

“Rows of houses all bearing down on me.”

But he wasn’t here to do that now. He was on the stage and girls were clawing each other’s eyes out to see the local townie and his acoustic guitar.

Arya listened to his voice but couldn’t see his face. She could feel his talented fingers place the complicated notes and she felt something behind her eyes well up.

“I can feel their blue hands, touching me.”

A particular inebriated crowd member rushed her and Arya felt the air leave her lungs as she caught herself from falling over. She felt the strength and anger vibrate through her. She was suddenly reminded of her younger and more prickly years and she elbowed her way through the crowd like Jon had taught her. The crowd broke just as he reached the chorus and everyone seemed to part like the Red Sea.

She couldn’t see his eyes. He didn’t look at anyone in the crowd. His face was lowered and he watched his own fingers travel over the keyboard. He reached the bridge and everyone nodded to the beautifully tragic sounds reverberate through the room.

Her breath caught in her throat and she knew she had experienced this before. This wasn’t just déjà vu but she was at the garage again and she knew for sure that she couldn’t do this. Not when he sounded like that.

And she still couldn’t pull herself away. Not from him.

She almost didn’t hear the voice.

“Arya!” 

More people were jostled apart and finally Arya pulled her eyes away from the stage. It surprisingly didn’t take long for her to see the source of the shout. Hot Pie was easy to spot in any crowd.

He came towards her, breathless and excited.

“I didn’t think you’d be here tonight.”

Arya almost felt sorry for him. He was so happy to see her and so clueless about everything else.

“I…” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t know he was playing tonight.”

“Oh.” Hot Pie was confused. “Why did you come?”

“I don’t know,” Arya said. And she knew that was the truth. “He’s… This is very good.”

That’s all the she could concede.

“Oh, yeah,” Hot Pie nodded, finally able to contribute to the conversation. “I was just asking him the other day when we could start playing again.”

“What?” Arya felt dazed.

“I miss playing with you guys,” Hot Pie said. “Gendry comes here sometimes and plays solo. I thought you knew.”

Arya very much did not know but she wasn’t surprised why Gendry wouldn’t tell her. It was clear to her that neither of them were invested in each other’s lives any more. That was the entire reason that she was there to begin with.

“Yeah,” Arya said distantly, her eyes trailing back up to the stage.

“When do you think you'll get back together?”

Arya felt the blood drain from her face. She was not ready for this conversation. "What?"

“The band,” Hot Pie elaborated. That was a question she really hadn’t entertained the thought of.

“I don’t know,” Arya said. “It’s not my decision.”

“Really?” Hot Pie seemed to always be confused. Or maybe he really just didn’t know. He sounded disappointed. Arya could understand that. She should be disappointed in herself but all she felt was an insufferable ache. “Hey, is that Sansa?”

Arya looked over, relieved to see her sister’s vibrant hair in the house lights. She had a drink in her hand. Arya didn’t suppose Sansa would go back to get one for her.

She must have heard who was playing because she once again looked sad. Arya just wanted to leave but Sansa too was looking at the stage.

“Hi.” Hot Pie was blushing furiously.

Sansa looked at him quizzically. “Hi…”

“I’m Hot Pie,” he introduced himself. Sansa took a drink from her paper cup.

“Mhm.”

“We met that other night,” he continued. “I was at The Peach. You were there too, Arya. Weren’t you?”

Arya just shook her head, apologizing for him. “He’s Hot Pie.”

“Right,” Sansa said. But she just looked concerned at Arya. She shook her head, trying to shake off everything else but it didn’t seem to be working.

“We can leave now,” Arya said simply. Sansa gave her a reproachful look but she didn't think she would be fought on this one.

“You’re going?” Hot Pie sounded disappointed. “You just got here. And Gendry finished his set. If you two stuck around—“

Arya took Sansa by the arm, deciding not to care about Hot Pie’s protests.

“It’s fine,” Sansa assured her. “You’re fine.”

“I can’t do this.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I just…” Arya was never good at articulating her feelings. But it was everything. “I didn’t know he would be playing tonight. I should have… I guess there are a lot of things that I don’t know about him anymore.”

Arya really hoped she wasn’t having a panic attack, but that’s what it felt like. Sansa was the one who had her fair share of panic attacks. Arya just cried when she was angry. But she sure didn’t feel like she was angry now. And she hated it. She hated how out of control everything was.

“Can we go?” Arya asked. “Please? I’ll tell him later, I just can’t—“

“Hi.”

He was breathless too. He was sweating. That was probably from the stage lights and not from the fact that he had been running.

But he had ran.

Sansa smiled pleasantly at Gendry before giving Arya a pointed look.

“Hi,” Arya said, turning to him, uncomfortable.

“You’re leaving?” His voice was accusatory and she felt bile rise to the back of her throat. This was the exact sort of thing she wanted to avoid. The pit was starting to move raucously and she fell again, this time knocking right into him. Gendry’s hands shot out just as she put a hand to her stomach protectively.

His eyes were on her.

“Good set,” Arya said.

His hands were still on her upper arms.

“I didn’t know you came anymore.”

“I didn’t know you played here anymore,” Arya threw back.

“I can still play,” Gendry said. “No reason to stop.”

Not like there was for her, she was sure. Arya squirmed from his grasp. His arms fell down to his sides.

“Right,” Arya said. “Sorry.”

He studied her. “Why?”

“There’s something that I wanted to talk to you about,” Arya said awkwardly. Sansa would be so much better at this but she seemed to have melted into the crowd to give her space. Some sisterly love.

“Did you get your car back alright?” Gendry asked.

Arya looked at him blankly.

“You know I could have just put my bike in the back and driven it back to your house,” he was saying, “but I guess you didn’t need me.”

“I rode with Sansa and I drove it back,” Arya said impatiently. She couldn’t understand why this mattered at all. “Would you just listen?”

“Forgive me,” he said mockingly, “but I’m just confused. You push me away, you show up here after my set—“

“I didn’t know you were playing,” Arya reminded him snappishly.

“Just a coincidence then.”

“I came here to talk to you,” Arya said, getting more frustrated.

“You were running away.”

“This didn’t really seem like the best place to have this conversation,” Arya said, having to shout over the noise of the club.

“Then why did you come?”

“I thought you would just be here,” Arya said, her defenses getting weaker and weaker. “I didn’t think you were performing and I thought we could go out back or something.”

“We don’t need to talk,” Gendry said. “That’s the last thing you want. Remember? You didn’t seem keen on talking that night and you didn’t want to talk the day you got an abortion. So forgive me.”

She shoved him.

His eyes grew wide. He barely moved an inch but she relished in the fact that he was surprised at her reaction.

“Fine,” she shouted. “You can find out when the rest of them do. 

Arya whirled around, disappearing into the crowd.

_Immerse your soul in love._


	7. Immerse Your Soul in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had been breathless the moment he saw her when he was getting off the stage. He had broken through a wall of girls to get to her before she left. He didn’t think of what he would do when he would find her. All he knew is that she drove him crazy and she had to know that. All he knew was that she was there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's wait some of you have been waiting for. Arya tells her parents. And hopefully Gendry's POV will be slightly satisfactory.

He had been breathless the moment he saw her when he was getting off the stage. He had broken through a wall of  girls to get to her before she left. He didn’t think of what he would do when he would find her. All he knew is that she drove him crazy and she had to know that. All he knew was that she was there. 

But it all came out wrong. It all came out in a jumble and he hated how her sister was staring at him. Sansa Stark would always be the expert on making someone feel like dirt.

Not that he didn’t deserve it.

Sansa regarded him coolly. She could turn anyone to stone. His chest was heaving and he had the decency to look heartbroken. But so did her sister when she thought no one was looking and she couldn’t have that.

Gendry wasn’t running away. He was always a glutton for punishment. She almost felt bad.

“She’s a bit hormonal,” Sansa said after a moment, her eyes following her sister disappearing into the crowd. No one would catch her now. She was always fast.

Gendry wasn’t terribly stupid. It was clear Arya had something important to tell him but he couldn’t guess what that was.

“Hormonal?” he asked.

Arya had been through enough and she needed support right now. Sansa might as well tell him 

“She’s keeping it.”

She couldn’t tell if he was happy or not. At that moment, he just looked lost.

“I don’t get it.”

“Did you think that Arya was so spent that day because she was drugged up from an operation?” Sansa asked. “She couldn’t do it. She won’t do it.”

Gendry started walking. His legs were stiff but he went to a quiet corner. Sansa followed him.

“Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?” she asked.

“No.”

“Well, what do you want?”

The answer was so clearly displayed on his features. Arya may not have understood it, but Sansa knew it when she saw it.

“Arya is going to do what Arya is going to do,” Gendry said slowly. “She doesn’t want me. She doesn’t need me.”

The poor fool. He wanted what was so simple and what Arya could never understand. Arya was a fool too. A fool when it came to love and everything that came with it. Of course she would get pregnant before she told someone she loved them. She always had it backwards.

“You’re right,” Sansa agreed. “Arya’s going to do what Arya’s going to do. “But it would be gentlemanly if you at least offered to help her this time. She doesn’t really have anyone else.”

“How can I?” Gendry asked helplessly. “I would follow her anywhere. I would do whatever she asked. But she never will.”

“Correct again,” Sans said. “She won’t ask for your help. But that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t need it. And that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t want it.”

“She sure has a nice way of showing it.”

“I would say the same to you,” Sansa said. “What exactly was that back there?”

“Misplaced anger,” Gendry replied.

“Clearly.”

“She made it perfectly clear that she doesn’t want me.”

“That’s your problem, Gendry Waters,” Sansa said. “Pride.”

“Someone like me can’t have pride,” Gendry said bitterly.

“Arya doesn’t think so,” Sansa said. “No matter how much you think she does.”

“Arya wants me when she wants me,” Gendry said. “And no other time and for no other reason.”

“Arya wants you always,” Sansa said. “She just thinks that she can’t.”

Gendry’s eyes were dark 

“You know what I’m talking about,” Sansa said.

The one syllable that was on everyone’s minds but no one said. Only when Arya blew up at the dinner table.

“I was wrong to love her.”

“You were wrong to leave her.”

She watched him crumple. And she couldn’t watch any more. Arya had slipped away again and Sansa knew she had no hopes in finding her. Her little sister would return when she was ready and right now, there was nothing that she could do for Gendry.

Sansa walked confidently over to the bar. She had found that if she just smiled at the bartender that they usually wouldn’t card her. Margaery had been able to procure for them some fakes, but recently she had found the brunette’s company tiresome. She didn’t dwell on the fact that seemed to occur right around the time that Arya had self-destructed.

Sansa sipped her drink and looked around the club. Gendry had already headed for the back door but she was fairly certain the two of them wouldn’t run into each other. Arya would be impossible to find in this crowd and her best course of action was to wait it out.

She didn’t have to wait long.

“Looking for someone?”

But it wasn’t Arya.

Sansa knew the voice. She didn’t need to turn. Sandor’s face was as gruesome as ever but she didn’t flinch from it. She never did.

“Hey,” he said when she only stared at him.

Sandor Clegane was a few years older than her had never been far from her ex-boyfriend. But it seemed that he spent more time wherever she was more than anything else. Even Margaery started to notice and Margaery didn’t know anything. She didn’t know who the college kid with a violent scar streaking from his hairline to his jaw was.

Margaery hadn’t even known what was happening with Sansa until it was too late. But there Sandor was, as ever. Just looking. Looking as mean as ever, but Sansa knew it was a mask just like she knew so well.

Just like she knew how he got his mutilation.

“Hi,” Sansa said primly, sipping her drink.

“So where’s mini-me?”

“Margaery’s not here,” Sansa said automatically. Sandor was never the type to be extroverted, but the unblemished side of his face had turned upward in something like a smile.

“I was talking about your little sister.”

Sansa was silent for a moment, absorbing that. She knew what that attempt at a smile was and she didn’t like it.

“I can’t find her,” she said quietly.

“You shouldn’t be here alone, little bird.”

Sansa glowered at him. She hated that he called her that. He always spoke like he knew her.

“I’m not alone.”

* * *

There was a girl next to her, applying eyeliner. Arya hoped that she had blinded herself. Then she wouldn’t notice the crumpled up wet paper towels Arya had discarded in the trash can. Luckily none of the girls seemed to be noticing her and were compromised with self absorption. She could finally walk out of the bathroom with dignity.

She would make a beeline for the bar, find Sansa, and drag her out if necessary.

Not that he would still be there. And if he was, it was probably because some willowy blonde had thrown her bra at him. Arya burst from through the door of the bathroom.

Unfortunately, she had found Sansa far too quickly. And it wasn’t a scene that she wanted to see at all.

She was laughing. It shouldn’t have disturbed Arya so much to see her sister happy – especially after what had just happened – but it wasn’t that she was enjoying herself. It was whom she was enjoying herself with.

Arya stopped dead as she saw Sansa talking to Sandor Clegane. For a moment, she almost considered leaving them be. Sansa hadn't had a great sense of character before. Even their parents agreed on that after the cops came to talk to them. But Arya knew her sister had changed. She wasn’t like that anymore. Even so, Arya could never trust him.

She knew that for certain when she saw Sana’s face dropped. She whirled around, looking through the crowd. Clegane’s expression never changed. Nothing could ever make his marred face any better. Nothing could ever change the story behind it either. That’s what Arya knew as she charged forward.

“What are you doing here?” Arya demanded. Clegane just watched her, unimpressed.

“Free country.”

Arya looked over to Sansa for confirmation. But Sansa was just staring at the floor, folding in on herself. She wasn't smiling anymore. Without thinking, Arya pushed herself between Clegane and Sansa. He smiled grimly.

“Little bird’s fierce little protector.”

“Arya.” Sansa’s hand was soft on her shoulder. “Not now. Let’s just go.”

They both knew that Arya would much rather start something. But Sansa’s hand slid down to Arya’s stomach. Arya knocked her hand away, but she knew that her natural instincts couldn’t serve her well anymore. Not when she wasn’t just looking after herself any longer. Sansa had said there would be consequences and when it came to that, she seemed to be right.

What Arya didn’t like was Clegane’s dead stare. He saw too much.

“Please,” Sansa urged quietly.

For the first time, Arya listened to her older sister. She took Sansa’s hand and pulled her through the crowd.

They said nothing as they wove through the club. The both of them just wanted to find the exit and Arya was thankful for that. But she couldn’t stop from asking once they reached the night air.

“What did he say to you?”

“Nothing.”

Sansa didn’t look at her. She just unlocked the driver’s side and slid in. Arya followed reluctantly.

“Nothing?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sansa said sharply, the car roaring to life. Arya was quiet as Sansa sped into the street. She finally looked over at her sister. “Please, Arya, can we just drop it?”

Arya didn’t answer. She just leaned her head against the window, watching the city flash by. Sansa was quiet. The lack of sound was deafening, especially attributed to the lack of radio. On that front, Arya could only be grateful. Sansa had an affinity for NPR.

“Look at us.”

Sansa looked over at Arya as her sister spoke.

“Us and our adult problems.” Arya looked over at Sansa with a hesitant smile.

At that, Sansa laughed. But Arya’s smile fell.

“They won’t be surprised,” she said. “That’s what it will probably say on my yearbook photo. Most likely to become a teen mom.”

“You’re not going to be a teen mom,” Sansa said dryly.

“I’m not going to the clinic again,” Arya reminded her.

Sansa nodded. “You’re still not going to be a teen mom.”

They weren’t reprimanded for sneaking out on a school night the next day. But that didn’t mean that her parents didn’t know. Catelyn Stark had a frightening ability to gauge that sort of thing. She would save it for when she needed it. Which, to Arya’s dismay, would be the following day.

She couldn’t keep it a secret for much longer. It was now or never. Or when it would be impossible to hide it anymore.

Catelyn’s face was stiff when they all gathered in the living room. Ned just looked worried. Sansa was there for moral support, but Arya hadn’t really counted on her brothers as eager participants. She was lucky that Robb was only close enough for Skype, which she would not be indulging in. But Bran just sat there attentively, though he already knew everything worth knowing.

At least Catelyn drew the line at that, not wanting to go through the trouble of keeping it from Bran when he was so very stationary. For once, Arya could thank her mother in keeping Rickon from the spectacle. He would find out soon enough and she didn’t need to have to deal with his attention seeking tendencies at the moment.

Even as she watched them all sit there, the words wouldn’t come. Her mother’s hand was clasped tightly in her father’s and she felt an overwhelming wave of self-disgust. Sansa must have felt her cowardice for the second time and she touched her shoulder lightly. “Arya.”

“What is it?” Catelyn asked sharply. Arya knew her mother well enough to understand that it wasn’t anger. It was just her concern. And she should have known that’s all it ever was coming from her mother. She was just too selfish to see it.

“It’s okay,” Bran said comfortingly. “Just say it.”

Catelyn looked over at her son in shock. “You know about this.”

Sansa was looking at Bran in surprise. “You told him?”

“He… deduced,” Arya said distractedly.

“Deduced what, Arya?” Her father’s voice was gentle, but she couldn’t imagine what he would do after she said it. There would be no taking it back. She had already made this decision, but this was something different. This was admitting it. And she couldn't take breaking her father's heart.

“If you’ve gotten kicked out of school—“ Catelyn started.

“Mom.” Arya never thought her voice could be so shaky. Catelyn broke off immediately, her harsh exterior melting away. “I’m still going to school.”

“Jon?” Her father asked. Catelyn let go of his hand immediately. For once, Arya didn’t want to talk about Jon. She couldn’t even think about his reaction and was grateful that he wasn’t here to see this. But then again, if he had stayed, this probably wouldn’t have happened anyway.

“No,” Arya said. “It’s me. I’m the one that screwed up. But I’m going to give it up for adoption. And I’m going to keep going to school. I’ll face the consequences, I know that I—“

“Give _what_ up for adoption?”

Arya was fairly certain her father understood that it wasn’t a puppy.

“Arya,” Catelyn said, looking more frightened than Arya had ever seen her. “What did you do?”

“I’m pregnant.”

It was all her fault and no one could ever say anything different. The living room was deathly quiet for what seemed like generations. Catelyn’s face was a frozen mask of something Arya was afraid to look at. But her father was worse. Ned Stark looked more disappointed than he ever had in her.

“You knew about this?” Catelyn seemed to be addressing her children. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I’m telling you,” Arya said sharply. She couldn’t say she was being responsible, because that was the last thing that she was. But her mother wouldn’t be the first to congratulate her on facing the consequences.

“This was Arya’s problem,” Bran said. “She needed help and she needed to do it in her own time.”

“You’re right,” Catelyn said, but she didn’t seem at all placated. “This is Arya’s problem.”

Definitely not.

“Ground me. Flog me, whatever. I know I deserve it.”

There was more silence and Arya couldn’t think of anything else to say. She was sorry, but that didn’t change anything.

“Who’s the father?” Ned finally spoke. That was one thing that Arya didn’t count on him asking. She was sure her family wouldn’t even want to know what she had been doing, let alone who she had been doing it with.

“It’s Gendry,” Arya said hesitantly.

“Gendry Waters.” Of course her mother would fixate on his last name and his unmarried mother.

 Ned seemed to still be absorbing everything.

“Jon’s friend?” Ned asked.

“He’s my friend,” Arya said defensively. That was all they saw, and she knew that she couldn’t change that.

“More than a friend, apparently.” Bran somehow was finding this all highly amusing.

“ _Brandon_ ,” Catelyn exclaimed.

“What?” he asked. “The damage is done. That’s not going to change anything.”

“I think we all need to talk to Arya alone now,” Ned said measuredly. Catelyn was furious but Ned’s levelheadedness seemed to keep her grounded somehow. Sansa nodded dutifully and helped Bran up and to his room.

Once again, Arya was drowning in silence and the trap that she had made for herself.

“Whatever happened, I don’t want to know,” Ned said.

“Dad, I’m sorry,” Arya pleaded. She could expect her mother’s wrath but her father’s disappointment and sadness was more than she could take.

“Enough,” he said. But Catelyn spoke before he could continue.

“Of course it was the Waters boy.”

Arya felt her hackles rise immediately and she felt the defensiveness that she could never seem to quell.

“Cat,” Ned said. Arya took that to mean he was completely furious at her, but she wasn’t about to let her father protect her when it came to this. She couldn’t.

“So you would feel better if a Targaryen knocked me up, would you?” Arya snapped. Ned rubbed his temples and she knew he wouldn’t say anything until the fighting was done. She hated having to put her father through this. She wished that she could stop herself but she just couldn’t. “But that’s not it at all. Because we wouldn’t want another bastard in the family now, would we, Mom?”

“Now is not the time for you to be making some sort of stand,” Catelyn warned her.

“That’s why you hate Gendry so much,” Arya said bitterly. “Him and Jon. The rebellious bastards.”

“Yes, they are,” Catelyn said. “Your behavior has been out of control since –“

“Since Jon left?” Arya asked. “My behavior has never been what you wanted and you always blamed it on him. But he’s gone now. I guess it didn’t solve all our problems, did it?”

“I’d say your problems are far from over.”

“But you can’t blame it on Gendry either,” Arya said. “He might not be rich or have a father, but this was my idea. You can believe that. And I'm the one that's taking care of this.”

“Arya, please.” Her father finally spoke and she fell silent.  Catelyn looked at Ned with exasperation. Arya knew she had always been difficult. This wasn’t helping matters. “Do you have a plan?”

“A plan.”

“It seems that since you told us, you had some sort of decision.”

“I’m going to have it,” Arya said, as determinedly as she could. She couldn’t let them think that she had any reservations or hesitance. “And then I’m going to give it up to someone who’ll take care of it.”

“And?”

Arya felt like she was trapped in tar. “And… what?”

“Do you have any idea about medical expenses, how to keep yourself healthy, what sort of precautions you need to take?”

Arya remembered distantly about wondering if she could still play her drums or not. She had never researched it.

“Good thing she has a mother and someone who has been through it before.”

Arya looked at Catelyn blankly. She was by no means pleased, but she seemed to have a firm resolve and Arya was suddenly incredibly grateful to have her.

“We’re going to get you healthy,” Catelyn said, immediately beginning to scribble down items on a list. “First, you’ll have to stop dying your hair, obviously. You can still drink coffee, but you'll have restrictions on your excercise. Also you’ll need these prenatal vitamins which actually do wonders for your hair.”

Ned and Arya shared the same surprised expression. Arya knew this was more than she could hope for from her mother. She sat down next to her.

“Thanks, Mom.”

Catelyn looked up. Her mouth was in a thin line but she stroked her youngest daughter’s hair.

Ned exhaled and collapsed back into his chair. Arya’s anxiety was slipping away, but the lines in her father’s forehead kept deepening.

“I thought you could take care of yourself,” he said after a moment. But he should have known her better than that.

“I did.”

Ned stared at her for a moment. Arya raised her chin defiantly. She had made a mistake. She regretted the consequences, but she wasn’t going to apologize for the action.

The corner of Ned’s mouth lifted slightly.

“ _Ned_ ,” Catelyn reprimanded. “Do not reward her for being so irresponsible.”

“Whatever you did,” Ned addressed his daughter, “I can’t say it wasn’t your decision.”

She knew that this didn’t fix anything, but it made her feel slightly better.

“At least I’ve met the boy,” Ned conceded. Catelyn didn’t interject verbally, but her expression did all the talking. “No one’s saying Gendry isn’t an upstanding young gentleman.”

“An upstanding young gentleman that got our daughter pregnant.”

“There isn’t anything we can do about that now,” Ned said.

“Maybe,” Catelyn said. “Maybe not.”

“Mom,” Arya said in shock.

“I’m not saying it’s the ideal situation—“

“I’ve made my decision,” Arya said.

Ned nodded. “Yes you have. And you’re going to live with it.”

“I know that,” Arya answered.

“That’s not going to cut it,” Catelyn said.

“It will for now,” Ned said. He was tired. Arya could see it in his eyes and felt the guilt for every line on his face. “Go to your room for now. We’ll talk about this later.”

Arya wouldn’t have dreamed of disobeying anything they said right now. She was sure that she owed them about thirty years of obedience for everything that she had done. But she said nothing. She just trailed up the stairs, her father’s eyes on her back as she went.

Ned didn’t speak until they heard her door close at the top of the stairs.

“We knew it was something,” Ned said.

“If one of our daughters was going to get pregnant this soon, neither of us would have hedged our bets on it being Arya.”

“Something was wrong,” Ned said. “And these are the consequences.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this,” Catelyn said.

“She made the decision,” Ned nodded. “But that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t a cry for help either.”

Catelyn searched her husband’s face. He wished he could tell what was beneath those sad blue eyes of hers.

“She is her father’s daughter,” Catelyn said after a moment. “She was always closer with you.”

“I don’t want to fight,” Ned said. “And you know the boy isn’t at fault. He’s been nothing but polite.”

“That doesn’t change what happened.”

“It happened and we’re making sure that Arya is taking responsibility,” Ned said. “She probably didn’t even tell the boy.”

“It doesn’t mean he didn’t take advantage,” Catelyn said stiffly.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Wouldn’t you?” she asked.

“Like she said,” Ned replied. “He took care of her.”

“Is that what you heard?” Catelyn asked. “I heard that she took care of herself.”

“That’s not what she meant.”

“Well what are we going to do?”

“It seems like you’ve got everything under control,” Ned said. But he could tell that his wife was not in the mood at the moment.

“She's my daughter. Of course I do. And you wouldn’t have said any of that if you didn’t have an idea of what you’re going to do,” Catelyn said. “We can’t entrust all of this to a sixteen-year-old.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to handle this at sixteen,” Ned said. “We shouldn’t expect her to. But if she wants to give it up for adoption, I think that’s the most sound plan that we have.”

“That sort of thing takes research,” Catelyn said. “You can’t just take a stranger and raise under the roof of a completely different family.”

Ned rubbed his forehead. No matter what, it always led back to Jon.

“Arya is really suffering about this,” he said. “You know she blames herself and she won’t let it go unless she has some closure.”

“Well there’s only one way of that happening.”

“Stop it,” Ned said darkly. “Don’t say that, don’t even think it. I know you’re hurt over this, but he is my son. I don’t want him out there getting blown up.”

“I know,” Catelyn said. It was the only thing she knew. “I know you love him.”

“So does Arya,” Ned said. “And I won’t hear about it any more.”

Arya looked more like Jon than her own mother and Ned knew that was salt in the wound for Cat. But he looked after his own blood and he knew his youngest daughter had the same tendency. And he knew why she hadn’t gotten rid of this child and kept it a secret.

The way he had with Jon.

“I’m going to take care of this,” Ned said.

“How are you going to do that?” Catelyn asked.

“We’re going to support our daughter,” Ned replied. “There’s a family who have been trying to have children for awhile. We don’t need to worry about medical expenses. They’ll take care of everything. They want this very badly.”

“You just came up with this just like that?” Catelyn asked suspiciously.

Ned didn’t answer.

“Ned, no,” Catelyn said. “You can’t. Not them.”

“It’s the best option we’ve got at the moment.”


	8. Bright Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya ran. It was what she had always done. The problem with Gendry was that he did the same thing. He always deferred to her for some reason and it was beyond irritating. In this matter, maybe it was better that he kept his distance. And yet for some reason, she couldn’t deny that she missed him.
> 
> And yet she still couldn’t deny that things would never ever work between them. She wished she had her best friend by her side, but now that he was less than a friend and more the father of her unborn bastard, things were more complicated than that to say the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would have posted yesterday but there was a twelve hour blackout, yeah that was awesome. Sorry for the delay!

Arya did not like this neighborhood. But she supposed she forfeited her right to complain along with the rights of her body. She wasn't about to bring that subject with her father. The two of them hadn’t spoke since they got into the car. She was still absorbing the information and her subsequent powerlessness to do anything about it. She didn’t know how she felt about it.

Though she supposed that was the point. She should be glad her father was taking care of things. But she had never been that person to begin with. And all she could think of was how much she remembered disliking Cersei Lannister. The last time she saw the woman was when she was nine at a Christmas party.

The woman had liked Sansa distinctly better. That’s all Arya could remember. And now she was sure that the wife of her father’s friend would have some sort of vindication. She didn’t care what some rich housewife in the suburbs thought of her. But she also felt like this was some sort of penance.

Her father hadn’t been explicit on that.

What he had been explicit on was the plan he had laid out for her. Taking her to visit his friends that would take her baby in the rich district of King’s Landing was not something she had banked on.

This must be some sort of penance.

“Your mother loves you very much.”

Arya looked up from the window at her father’s voice. She didn’t know what to say. He looked away from the road for a moment to see her expression.

“I know she can be difficult sometimes.”

“Not as difficult as me.”

Finally, her father smiled. “Then you’re more alike than you think.”

Arya shared her father’s smile, but it was a small consolation. Of course she had been the one to say she was giving this up to a family that actually knew what they were doing. She just never thought it would be the Baratheons. There was something sick and twisted about it that she just couldn’t put her finger on.

“This never happened to her.”

Ned’s smile vanished.

“She always preferred Sansa.”

“No,” her father said. “Sansa had your mother’s looks and you always had mine. That was the way of it. Only when this happened did we realize something was wrong.”

“With me,” Arya said. “This is my fault.”

“I won’t disagree with you.” His voice wasn’t chastising. He wasn’t scolding her, but he was still serious. “You made a mistake but that doesn’t mean that your mother and I won’t be here to help you through it.”

“Thank you.”

Her father’s smile was wry. She didn’t know how many times she had said that aloud in her life.

“It’s still brave of you.” She could tell he was becoming lighter with her the closer they got to the Baratheons. Both of them knew that she would need it.

“No, it isn’t,” Arya said. “I tried, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t do it.”

“What your mother suggested,” Ned gauged.

“I went down to the clinic,” Arya said. “I was filling out the form but Bran’s friend Meera was there.”

“She was?” Ned asked, concerned. Arya shook her head at his assumption.

“She works there. And I just kept picturing how angry he was.”

“Bran?”

Arya paused. “Gendry.”

“Have you told him?” Ned asked. He was being surprisingly calm about this. “That you’re keeping it.”

“Sort of.”

Her father raised his eyebrows at her.

“It was Sansa’s idea,” Arya conceded.

Ned nodded. It would always be up to Sansa in the end. Arya had always known it. So did everyone else.

When Ned finally pulled up to the driveway, it was even worse than Arya could have possibly imagined. She had never been to her father’s friends’ place before. She knew that he preferred it that way. As affluent as they were, Ned always had a rustic sense to him and he liked raising his children with at least an ounce of humility.

That was always something that Gendry could never understand. He could never differentiate between Starks and Baratheons. They were all the same to him. But she couldn’t hold that against him. He met Jon and he met her sister. After that, it would be hard for anyone to see them as anything but moneygrubbing clichés. Even Arya felt that way sometimes. That’s why she had held on to Gendry so tight.

It still didn’t make sense. And it still didn’t stop everything from tumbling down.

Calling the Baratheon place a mansion would be understating it. Their driveway was practically a runway and she felt even her father exhale at the sight of it.

Ned finally reached the top of the hill and parked. Arya didn’t even know that they made five-car garages. Though she shouldn’t have expected anything less. She pulled off her seatbelt but Ned held her back, her fingers caught in the door handle.

“This is the best thing for everyone,” he assured her. 

She was in no position to argue.

“Okay.”

“Just…” Ned sighed again. “Remember that.”

Arya couldn’t help but smile. She truly was more like her father than her mother liked and the both of them never had much affection for the extravagant.

“Can it really be any worse than I’m imagining it?” Arya asked.

Ned’s face was impassive. “Let’s go in.”

Not surprising.

As they walked up to the door and her father rang the doorbell Arya pulled at her dark hooded sweatshirt.

The welcome mat had some pun that she tried to work out in her head. After a few moments Ned looked down and begrudgingly wiped his feet. His uniform was standard flannel and blue jeans. He hadn’t altered his state of dress and Arya hadn’t considered that she should.

Her father brought a hand to the back of her head and smoothed her unkempt hair affectionately. Arya was still scuffing her boots on the mat when Cersei Lannister-Baratheon answered the door.

Arya looked up and with dismay, realized her father’s insinuations had indeed been correct. This would be far worse than either of them could imagine.

Cersei Baratheon was startling beautiful with her golden hair curling around her shoulders and her startling green eyes. Even more surprising was how put together she was for a housewife. She was slim, her spine erect in the unblemished white power suit she wore. She would have been stiff if she weren’t so graceful.

Arya hated her already.

Cersei hesitated in the doorway, her eyes sweeping Arya instantly. Arya tugged at her sweatshirt.

But in an instant the moment was gone and Cesei spread her lips in a gracious smile, revealing sparklingly white teeth.

“Please, come in.”

The door shut behind them and she greeted Ned slightly more warmly than she had his daughter, though Arya had a feeling she disliked his wardrobe choices just as much. Arya fidgeted uncomfortably, unable to avoid the expansive mirror displaying her in the foyer.

Cersei still hadn’t invited them into the actual house part of the house.

There was an uncomfortable lapse before Arya heard the familiar roar of Robert Baratheon’s voice. She hadn’t seen him since she was a child, but it gave her strange chills.

“Didn’t you invite them into the living room?”

Robert appeared behind his wife. His blue eyes instantly found her father who was significantly taller than her. But the moment his eyes found her, he cut himself off. She was sure he had more to say to his wife but when he looked at Arya, he stopped. He just looked.

Arya looked up to her father for help and Ned spoke up immediately.

“You remember my daughter Arya,” Ned suggested.

“Arya,” Robert said, as though tasting the word itself. “You’ve grown.”

Cersei sent him a sharp look of annoyance.

“I’m sixteen,” Arya said in confusion. Of course she had grown. Generally speaking, all humans had a biological imperative towards that sort of thing.

“Of course you are.” Robert embraced Ned warmly, but her father stepped back as soon it was done.

“You mentioned locating to the living room?” Cersei asked. It sounded more like a command than a question.

“Thank you, Cersei,” Ned said, reaching out his hand. She shook it and turned quickly to lead them to the room to the left. Arya sat with her father on the couch while Robert and Cersei sat across from them.

“Sixteen, you say,” Robert said as he made himself comfortable. “Don’t suppose you think that’s too young.”

Ned knew his daughter well enough and cut her off before she could give her scathing reply.

“Believe me, her mother and I won’t be taking an ad out in the paper for her latest claim to fame.”

Cersei smiled uncomfortably. “If you wouldn’t mind us getting right down to it.”

She wasn't the sort of woman to dwell on teen pregnancies, Arya supposed. 

“Of course,” her father answered, but Robert interjected.

“Let them breathe awhile, would you? They just got here.”

“This isn’t a social call, Robert,” Cersei said. She directed her attention to Arya. “Arya is kindly consenting to allow us to adopt her child. Isn’t that right, Arya?”

She felt her father’s eyes on her. This was a test, though she wasn't really sure as to what kind. There only seemed to be one answer to her. And it had been her idea anyway.

“Yes,” Arya said, trying her best to be confident. The woman had icy eyes. “We—I think it’s the best option.”

Robert was smiling at her. She avoided his eyes.

“We are of course grateful,” Cersei said. “With work right now and the environment, it’s just not easy—“

“No need to give them our memoir,” Robert said.

 It was clear to Arya that she wasn't the sort of woman to divulge anything that she didn't want to.

“Not to worry,” Ned assured him. “My free-spirited and misguided daughter is right in this particular aspect. I knew you were having trouble and it seemed right.”

“So,” Cersei said, smoothing out her skirt like she could smooth out this uncomfortable situation. “How far along are you, Arya?”

“I think the doctor said twelve weeks,” Arya said. “My mom wrote it down.”

“You go to the doctor with your mother,” Cersei said. “No one else?”

“Dad has to work,” Arya said, looking up at her father for confirmation.

“I think my wife means to say,” Robert said, “we assume there was a boy involved.”

Ned nodded to Arya in encouragement.

“There’s not,” she said, realizing Cersei’s concern. “Believe me, it’s not. In six months it’s yours. I promise.” 

From Cersei’s smile, Arya knew that the woman didn’t believe that she would comply too easily. If ever there was a woman that wanted a baby, it was Cersei Baratheon. They didn’t know each other, but if they had, she wouldn’t have been worried. Like Sansa had said, Arya wasn’t about to be a teen mom.

“Then I hope you wouldn’t mind this be a closed adoption,” Cersei said clinically. That had been what she wanted to ask all along. “You can consult with our lawyer, if you’d like.”

“That’s preposterous,” Robert interrupted before Arya could understand what they were saying. “Ned is my closest friend.”

“Which is exactly why I opposed to this originally,” Cersei said through her teeth, still trying to smile. “But you insisted.”

“You wanted a child, didn’t you?” Robert didn't share his wife's concern with discretion, evidently. 

Ned took his daughter’s hand as the couple before them did battle.

“He’s your friend,” Cersei said. “Seeing them would be unavoidable.”

“I haven’t seen the man in six years,” Robert countered. “It didn’t seem to be a problem. They live practically on the other side of the state.”

“Wait. Stop.” Ned squeezed Arya’s hand warningly but she pulled away as Cersei and Robert looked at her. “You don’t have to fight."

“Arya,” her father said gently. “You have to understand something.”

“A closed adoption?” Arya asked.

“Yes,” Ned said.

“You won’t have the rights to see the child,” Cersei said. “We will be the rightful and only guardians.”

“Okay,” Arya nodded. She had assumed as much. “You don’t have to fight. It’s okay." 

“What’s okay?” Ned asked with a slight push.

“I don’t want updates or anything,” Arya said. “My mom was saying how hard it is to… When I have it, it’s yours. You won’t have a fight from me. Closed adoption.”

Cersei’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose. She almost looked impressed.

“Arya,” her father said. “Are you sure about this? You can think on it. We haven’t signed anything yet.”

Arya raised her chin. “This is what I want.”

For the first time, Arya believed Cersei’s smile. She looked over to Robert and took his hand in hers. It was barely a moment before he pulled away again.

“I have to admit, I didn't think this would be so painless,” Cersei said.

Ned looked to his daughter. “Somehow, I had the same impression.”

Robert was disturbingly quiet and for the first time, she noticed how blue his eyes were. She didn’t know why she had been staring so long, but looked away the moment he caught her stare.

“Bathroom?”

Cersei’s fingers were laced together. “Down the hall.”

Her voice had gotten crisp again. She shouldn’t have been worried. There wasn’t a chance that Arya would touch her precious toiletries.

The moment she closed the door, she locked it. She ran the tap, drowning out the boring pleasantries the adults seemed to be exchanging with one another. Her father clearly thought Cersei would prove to be more difficult. Interestingly enough, Cersei seemed to have thought the same thing about Arya.

Even so, being trapped in a suburban nightmare was not what Arya had in mind. Even standing in the middle of the gilded bathroom was enough to bring about her morning sickness. She splashed her face with cold water, trying to ignore how shiny the marble surface was. She could practically see her reflection in it.

She couldn’t help but think this was the exact sort of place that Sansa would die to become when she was older. She hadn’t been told about the adoption situation yet, but Sansa had always idolized power player Cersei Lannister in her youth. It was one of the reasons Catelyn was relieved to live where they did. There was no love lost there.

Arya was sure Sansa had matured some, especially in the previous months. She still couldn’t help but shudder to think this could be her sister’s future.

She took a few minutes before she was prepared enough to socialize again and unlocked the door. She started as she opened the door to see Robert leaning against the opposite wall.

“Hi.” Arya shrank back.

Robert’s face broke out into a boisterous smile when he saw her.

“We were worried about you,” he said. “You’ve been in there for awhile. 

Arya was sure if Cersei were concerned for her wellbeing, she wouldn’t have sent her husband.

“I’m fine.”

She couldn’t make herself look him in the eye. There was something searching about them. There was something about them that she hadn’t wanted to face today. Blue eyes that searched her reminded her of garages and clubs and things she couldn’t think about.

She had told Gendry that she was pregnant, but as far as how the adoption was faring, she hadn’t spoken to him since she ran off in the middle of the club.

Robert Baratheon’s eyes weren’t helping.

Arya ran. It was what she had always done. The problem with Gendry was that he did the same thing. He always deferred to her for some reason and it was beyond irritating. In this matter, maybe it was better that he kept his distance. And yet for some reason, she couldn’t deny that she missed him.

And yet she still couldn’t deny that things would never ever work between them. She wished she had her best friend by her side, but now that he was less than a friend and more the father of her unborn bastard, things were more complicated than that to say the least.

“You made my wife very happy today.”

“I couldn’t tell.”

Robert laughed loudly and Arya cringed inwardly. She wondered if he thought she was being sarcastic.

“Aren’t you?” Arya asked. “Happy?”

For the first time, he looked concerned. Almost as if he couldn’t answer. He took a step forward and Arya found herself dismayed that she couldn’t create any more distance between them. She wondered why the wall to her back made her feel so uncomfortable. She was never very good at being caged.

“Yes, Arya,” he said, his voice low. “I’m very happy.”

“You mean about the adoption.” She wasn’t sure if that was what he was talking about.

“What are you two doing out here?”

Arya could have embraced Cersei. If that was either of their styles. Robert took an instinctive step back at his wife’s arrival.

“Nothing,” Robert said hastily. “Just making sure Arya was doing alright.”

He didn’t say any more than that before he made his leave. Arya couldn’t look up from the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Arya said. “I didn’t know. I was just…”

In fact, she had no idea what had just happened.

“It’s alright,” Cersei said, placating, though her voice was somewhat dry. "It’s not your fault.”

Arya finally looked up. Cersei’s face was a porcelain mask. For once, Arya was sure the woman’s animosity wasn’t directed towards her.

“It’s not your fault,” Cersei said again, more to herself this time. “You’re very pretty.”

“Me?” Arya sputtered. She couldn’t believe that for a second. Lots of people stared at her but she was sure that was just because of her reputation and of course being Sansa Stark’s underwhelming little sister. “My sister always said I looked like a boy when I was little.”

She didn’t know what compelled her to say but Cersei was studying her now.

“You aren’t a child any longer.”

Arya didn’t know how to respond to that, but followed Cersei back to the living room. Thankfully it seemed that this bit of business had been concluded for now. Her father disliked social gatherings almost as much as she did.

Ned shook Robert’s hand and Arya was thankful Cersei was the barrier between her and her husband.

“I’ll be in touch,” Cersei said primly.

Arya couldn’t get out of the door fast enough. She slammed the door of her father’s car and buckled her seatbelt, staring determinedly out the windshield at the stupid carport before she realized her father was looking at her calmly.

“That was good,” he said. “I know that was hard for you.”

“Was it for you?” Her voice was sharper than she intended.

Immediately his face clouded. “What’s wrong?”

Arya shook her head, refusing to let any tears fall. It was becoming far too easy lately.

Stupid hormones.

“He just,” Arya struggled, “seems a lot like Gendry.”

Ned’s face relaxed. He had been thinking of something else and she didn’t want to know what that was.

“Yes,” he finally said, turning on the ignition. “He does.”

Arya narrowed her eyes at her father but he smiled back at her.

“Why don’t we get the hell out of here?”

Arya couldn’t help but smile at that. It was easy to love her father. She wasn’t sure if that was a revelation or not. It just seemed so hard to love her mother sometimes.

She wasn’t sure that her father rewarding her for a good job on visiting the adoption parents for the illegitimate baby she was about to have in high school was sending the right message. But she enjoyed him taking her out to ice cream anyway. It reminded her of when she was little. She was the only one he took out like that. Sansa would rather be going to pageants with their mother.

Catelyn wasn’t pleased, to say the least. Her eyes were cold when Arya walked in the door with her father and a half finished carton of ice cream.

“I thought you were meeting the Baratheons.”

Ned kissed her mother on the forehead.

“We stopped afterward.”

Arya was impressed to see her mother swallowing her remarks.

“Arya did well, Cat.”

“At what?”

It was a test. Arya could feel her mother goading her father into a fight and she really didn’t feel like being an audience member. She gave her father a hug. “Thanks, Dad.”

She ran up the stairs before her mother could stop her.

“Ice cream?”

“Something tells me that isn’t your issue with the situation,” Ned sighed, putting his carton down.

“How could you tell?”

“We already discussed this.”

“No,” Catelyn said. “You discussed it. I objected. This is a complete conflict of interest. And probably illegal.”

“I would think it’s just frowned upon,” Ned said thoughtfully.

“Usually you have the straightest moral compass of anyone I know.”

“I know you dislike the woman—“

“He’s your friend, Ned,” Catelyn said. “And completely irresponsible.”

“Who will care for the child better than Cersei?” Ned asked.

“You didn’t tell Arya, then.”

Ned rubbed his forehead. “Gendry doesn’t even know who his father is.”

“Though that is a concern,” Catelyn said, “you know I wasn’t talking about Gendry. There are a million reasons why not to do this.”

“And the Lannisters always put us in difficult positions, haven’t they?” Ned asked. “That was why we moved away. Away from all of that nonsense. Our children are grounded here.”

“Not anymore.”

“Arya won’t see the child,” Ned said. “It was her decision. She said so herself.”

“They’ll still have a hold over us.”

“All that matters is that Arya is at ease,” Ned said. “This was her decision. And I support her right to do so."

"She's a child."

"And she's about to have one."

"So did we," he countered. "If you recall."

"That was completely different," Catelyn said.

"I know it doesn't seem like it right now," Ned said. "But this is the responsible thing to do. It's what's best for her. After everything that happened to us in King's Landing, that's all I can care about. And since you asked, that is why I haven’t told her anything. There is so much history there, she’s better off not knowing.”

“About Gendry’s parentage, or about your sister?”

“Both.”


	9. Marigold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry,” Arya blurted. Gendry looked almost as surprised as she felt at the admission.
> 
> He was closer to her now and she didn’t hate it.
> 
> “I’m sorry,” she said again, quieter now. “I never wanted to stop being your friend. And if it weren’t for me, we still would be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My attempt at progressing Gendry and Arya's relationship. Here we go.

When Arya picked up the phone, she knew her sister had been drinking. It was a Saturday night and she really shouldn't have expected anything else. She was sitting alone on the couch when her phone rang. She should have considered the strangeness of seeing her sister’s name flash across the screen but she picked up anyway.

_“I need you to pick me up.”_

Sansa had never been a sloppy drunk, if you could call it that. She would just sip primly on a wine glass, ever the lady. Arya had observed this during holiday parties and the occasional time she had to stay over at Margaery’s overnight. Though that had nothing to do with Sansa's best friend’s older brother, Arya was sure. But never had Sansa ever reached out to Arya before. Sansa hadn’t lost her wits, but her voice was thick and not as precise.

“What?” Arya asked in shock.

“Is that your sister on the phone?” Catelyn called from the kitchen. 

Arya sat up straight on the couch, her senses heightened.

“ _Arya_ ,” Sansa whispered savagely back at her. “ _Please_.”

This was a delicate situation; otherwise Sansa wouldn’t be calling her. And under no circumstances should their mother be made aware of it.

“Is she coming home for dinner?” Catelyn asked to Arya’s silence.

Arya owed Sansa this much. After everything her older sister had done for her in the past few weeks, she knew she couldn’t deny her now.

Arya breezed into the kitchen as casually as she could, whisking her car keys off the hook in the front hallway.

“I’m going out for a few,” Arya said brusquely, hoping this approach would mean no one would stop her. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

Catelyn had never been one for any of that. Especially since her youngest underage daughter had recently become pregnant.

“Who was on the phone?” her mother asked, cornering her in the hallway. Arya could feel her father’s curious eyes and she knew exactly what her mother was thinking.

“It was just…” Arya struggled to come up with something on the spot. She couldn’t tell her the truth, but her mother was clearly coming up with more incriminating ideas. _Gendry_ had been blacklisted in the house, though this was the one time it wasn’t even about him.

“Arya, who was on the phone?” Catelyn asked firmly.

“Robb.” It came to her in an instant.

Catelyn looked surprised. “Robb.”

“He’s gearing up for exams in a few weeks,” Arya said. She was sure it must be that time of year at college.

“You talked to Robb?” Catelyn wasn’t buying it. “You told him about… your condition?”

 _Pregnant_ had also been blacklisted in the house.

Now she was caught in a trap. “No.”

“I thought we agreed—“

Arya hadn’t been the one to suggest hiding her _condition_  - as her mother liked to call it - from her brother, but she couldn’t say she wasn’t relieved that she didn’t have to make that embarrassing phonecall. She knew her mother would make her call him to tell him herself. At least Catelyn was more concerned about the honor of the family than what Robb did or didn’t need to know.

“I said I didn’t tell him, Mom,” Arya said, annoyed. “Why would I tell him?”

“You just don’t reach out to your brother that much.”

Arya bit back her retort. _You exiled the one that I do want to reach out to._

She knew better than that. She would never get out of the house if Jon’s name ever came up.

“I’m not doing anything wrong.” Arya was sure that was what guilty people said, but she was exhausted and mentally tired of being treated like a criminal all the time. “I’m just going out for second.”

“Where are you going?” Catelyn asked.

Now she knew she was never going to get out of the house. And her mother would somehow pin Sansa’s inebriation and inability to drive on her.

“While you’re out can you pick up some eggs?” her father asked spontaneously.

Arya and her mother looked back at Ned. He was smiling and Arya knew she had just been saved, though she couldn’t figure out why her father seemed to trust her so much lately. It seemed that she was the opposite of trustworthy, though she had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with the adoption.

“I was going to make a meringue for Sunday.”

This was here moment of opportunity and she wasn’t about to waste it for a second.

“Sure, Dad,” Arya said before slipping out the door without another word.

Arya flung herself into her car and started the route of Sansa’s pin drop. She was halfway there before she realized the address was in Hollow Hill.

She felt ill.

Her own stupidity hit her like a hammer when she pulled in right next to his motorcycle.

She didn’t get out of the car. She sat back, wallowing in the fact that she was in the den of Gendry’s former bandmates. And the fact that Sansa wasn’t in fact waiting outside for her was even more aggravating.

True to her older sister’s character, Arya knew she would have to walk into the enemy’s lair and root through every drunken hipster to find her sister who was clearly not in her element.

It was only a moment before her phone vibrated.

_“Where are you?”_

Sansa wasn’t slurring her words, which Arya took as a silver lining.

“Where are _you_?” Arya asked back in frustration. She heard laughter and a distinct crash in the background.

_“I’m in the place behind the thing with the fountain.”_

Arya was fairly certain Beric Dondarrion did not have a fountain in his house.

“Is there any way you can find your way to the place that is outside and in my car?” Arya asked.

There was a long pause. “ _What_?”

Arya let out a groan. “Are you in any immediate danger?”

_“Arya, will you please just come in and get me?”_

That gave her pause. There was something in her voice that Arya never thought she would hear again, and never wanted to.

Arya was out of her car in a second, not even bothering to lock her doors. She took the steps two at a time, but made a mental note that she and Sansa were going to have a serious talk when she sobered up.

It took her no time at all to find her sister. There was no fountain, but Sansa was crouched next to a keg. In any other circumstance, Arya knew she would be horrified at her current position.

“What happened?” Arya asked immediately. Sansa only hugged her. “Are you alright?”

“I didn’t want to drive home.”

And just like that, it was as if it had never happened. If Arya saw even a sign of Trant, she would do as she promised and more.

“Let’s get out of here,” Arya said hastily, taking her sister’s hand.

“Are we in immediate danger?” Sansa was so annoying when she had been drinking.

“No,” Arya said through gritted teeth. “I’d just prefer not to run into Gendry.”

“Gendry’s here?” Sansa asked, looking around. “Why did you come? That was a bad idea.”

Arya cast her a look. “You don’t say.”

They were inches from the door when Sansa’s hand slipped away. Arya whirled around to see her sister pulling away. “Wait right here.”

Arya sighed again as Sansa went in search for what she presumed was the bathroom. It was only when she turned around did she start to suspect this was some sort of highly elaborate plot of her sister’s. It was one that she would never be able to escape from.

“Hi.” His voice was quiet but she could still hear him over the din of the room. Lem was glowering at her over Gendry’s shoulder.

Lem never liked her. But Gendry was smiling at her – or what she was sure was an attempt at a smile. All she could do was smile uncomfortably right back at him.

“Hi.”

“I didn’t know you were going to be here.” He didn’t sound angry and that confused her.

“Neither did I.”

"Right." He nodded. “I think I saw your sister around here somewhere.”

“So did I.”

She could feel him peeling away from her at her lack of engagement. That was a real cornerstone of her personality anyway. But he didn’t turn away. He just looked back at his companion who shrugged and started making conversation with a black-haired girl next to him.

Gendry stepped closer to Arya. “She told me. About everything.”

Arya was starting to accept the fact that these conversations were just going to have to always be held at the most uncomfortable places.

“Oh,” Arya said. And she knew that hiding wasn’t servicing anyone. But out of everyone in her life, she knew he deserved to know. “I’m not keeping it or anything. I’m giving it up for adoption.”

He nodded, absorbing the information. “Okay.”

She was silent for a moment, unsure of what she should say next. He looked like he was about to turn away again when she spoke up. “I met with the family today.”

His blue eyes lit up for a moment. She was astonished. She didn’t think she would ever see that look on him ever again. She didn’t think anything about this appealed to him. “Was everything…”

“It was good.” She found herself smiling. “I think it’s going to be okay.”

“Okay.” He was smiling too.

And she wished she hadn’t fucked everything up so much. She saw a flurry in the crowd and Sansa making her way towards them.

“Well, I guess you have to—“

“I’m sorry,” Arya blurted. Gendry looked almost as surprised as she felt at the admission.

He was closer to her now and she didn’t hate it.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, quieter now. “I never wanted to stop being your friend. And if it weren’t for me, we still would be.”

His face fell, but before he could make her feel even more at odds with herself, she turned away and walked straight towards her sister.

“Look at you two,” Sansa responded coyly. “Behaving like mature adults.”

“He’s the adult,” Arya said shortly. “Not me.”

Sansa rolled her eyes.

“Did you throw up?”

“What?” Sansa asked. “No. Mom knew I drove tonight and she would have had a fit if she found out I drove home from a party.”

Arya looped her arm through her sister’s, fully intent on making a hasty exit.

“Arya.” Sansa stopped her.  Arya so didn't want to have to talk about this right now, but Sansa was intractable when she set her mind on something. “You’re just going to have to deal with the fact that people break up. And you have to see each other and interact with each other.”

Arya looked around, fully aware of how many of Gendry’s friends surrounded him.

“How can I interact with him when we were never even together?” Arya asked.

“Clearly the two of you were together or you wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

“Not like that,” Arya insisted. “We never—“

“Had the chance?” Sansa asked. Her voice was soft. “You can’t keep punishing him for something he never did. And you can’t keep holding on to him like this. Either you want this and you do something. Or you don’t. And you let him go.”

And it suddenly hit her. “I can’t do that.”

“Which part?”

Sansa’s eyes were steadfast and Arya couldn’t help what came next.

“And you?” she snapped. “Are you the mature one? How do you _interact_ with Trant?”

Sansa did a frightening impression of their mother as she pressed her lips together in a grim line. “That was unkind. 

“Or Clegane?” Arya pressed.

“Sandor and I never—“

“If you say so.”

Sansa sighed. “I’m not trying to be cruel.”

“Well neither am I.” Arya wished her sister would just stop staring at her. She could feel the emotion well behind her eyes and wished she could stop it.

“I know.”

Arya let Sansa hug her, though her arms lay rigidly at her sides.

“We can go home if you want,” Sansa offered, pulling away.

“Yes,” Arya said, blinking furiously. “There’s nothing more that I want than that.”

They only moved a few steps when Sansa was ground to a halt.

“I’m sorry, Arya,” Sansa said. “I didn’t think he would be here. I didn’t think any of them would be here. It just happened and I really didn’t want to get on Mom’s bad side after everything…”

But Arya wasn’t listening. She wasn’t even looking at Sansa.

“Arya?”

Arya was looking in the distinct direction that Gendry had disappeared off to. “Who is that?”

She didn’t sound angry. Her voice was monotonous.  Across the room was a slight girl with dark hair talking to Gendry. She was smiling at him. Arya’s face was a stony mask.

“Her?” Sansa asked cautiously. “I think she’s a freshman. Willow something.”

Arya didn’t reply. She just kept staring.

“You don’t have to—“

“I have to go,” Arya said abruptly. Sansa couldn’t even get a word in before Arya dashed away. She reached out to grab on to her little sister but the girl wrenched away.

Arya was relieved. She made it to the bathroom just in time to vomit safely in the toilet. Her mother told her that the morning sickness would stop after a few months, though she was starting to question why it was even called that when it only seemed to hit her when the sun was down.

But somehow, that mattered the least to her. Somehow, some faceless freshman kept entering her mind and she couldn’t understand why. She had been a child of fifteen when she was forced to grow up. And now she was a woman-child of sixteen throwing up in a stranger’s bathroom.

This felt unfair and it felt wrong. She supposed that was what being mature was like. This is what letting Gendry go felt like.

It felt like hours before she was ready to leave the bathroom. The rancid smell of alcohol and sweat hit her full in the face when she stepped out. That and the last person she had counted on seeing.

“Are you alright?”

She still wasn’t fast enough to the door. She very much wasn’t alright but she wasn’t about to admit that to Aegon Targaryen.

“It’s you,” Arya said dully before trying to weave her way through the crowd.

“Dondarrion’s renowned for his cheap beer,” Aegon said. “You’re not the first to disappear into the bathroom.”

Arya scanned the room for her sister, only half-listening. “I’m sure she’s around here somewhere.”

“Who?” Aegon asked.

“My sister.”

“Sansa?”

“Yeah.”

She felt his odd gaze.

“I wasn’t looking for her,” he said.

Arya looked over her should back at him. “Who were you looking for?”

He was silent for a moment. “Listen, Arya—“

She ignored the fact that he was addressing her so informally for someone she had only spoken to twice, and she ignored the fact that it hadn’t been her sister’s blue eyes she found across the room but a different kind. “What are you even doing here?”

“What?” Aegon asked.

“Here,” Arya said. “I thought you had a beach house or something.”

“Didn’t you say your sister was here?” Aegon pointed out.

“I don’t get that either.”

“I have friends here,” Aegon replied. “And I’m sure you sister does too.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know,” Aegon shrugged. “Large. Hulking. Messed up face. I’ve seen him around.”

So had Arya but she wasn’t about to mention that.

“Fine,” she said shortly. She would rather face her mother in a moment of truth again than be caught in this situation. She would rather be regaled and found out that she was her sister’s accomplice by her mother than feel Gendry’s eyes on her.

He was without his tiny shadow, but his eyes never changed 

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I just said I was fine.”

His words hit her without warning. “Margaery said she saw you the other day.”

Thoughts of Sansa immediately fled from her mind. For the first time she looked up into Aegon’s light eyes. She didn’t feel dread.

All she felt was _oh_.

Now she knew what this was. She blinked up at him blankly.

“Margaery.”

“You know how she is.”

“I don’t,” Arya said. Margaery had always been Sansa’s consort, not hers. “I didn’t see her. And I don’t know her either.”

That was the truth of the matter.

“Downtown.”

Oh.

“You don’t have to ask me if I’m alright,” Arya said. “Just ask me what you really want to know.”

“Not a lot of people are seen around there,” he said. She knew he meant important people. People like her mother and father. People like the Targaryens.

“My reputation was never very stellar to begin with,” Arya said coldly. “Whatever she wants to say about me, I don’t care.”

“That wasn’t what I wanted to ask you, Arya,” he said. “I really did want to to know if you were alright.”

“Why do you care?” Arya snorted, unladylike.

“Look,” Aegon said, “I just saw her talking to your sister is all. Roses have steel thorns. She can be nasty when she wants to be.”

“Why would she want to be?”

Aegon grinned. “Because you scare her. And because people like a scandal around here.”

“So how does that make you care?” Arya asked. But it didn’t really matter. Not anymore. Whether she found her sister, whether Aegon cared, whether she never spoke to Gendry again. She could throw her fist into Margaery’s face and it wouldn’t matter. When Margaery Tyrell said something, everyone listened.

And now everyone knew.

She could feel him watching her. But when she looked up, his face was drawn, Hot Pie at his side, talking animatedly with him.

Gendry would have preferred to leave. He was sure that had been her intention as well, but he supposed being Aegon Targaryen had a certain cache. Being caught in a stare by Hot Pie made it even worse.

“Everything alright?”

“Fine,” Gendry grumbled. “He’s more her league anyway.”

Confusion crossed Hot Pie’s face and he looked across the room.

“I don’t think that’s what they’re talking about,” Hot Pie said. “She’s always threatening to kick people’s teeth in.”

Gendry frankly didn’t care about Hot Pie’s noneducated guess about whatever was going on over there. Arya’s face was stricken but he wasn’t about to entertain himself with the notion of being her knight in shining armor. She never did well with that.

She’d be more likely to kick in his teeth than Aegon’s and that’s what he knew. As much as Arya liked to play the rebellious role, it didn’t stop the fact that she was a Stark.

He was just a fool who worked in an autoshop and more likely to get a GED than a college diploma.

“It’s definitely not what they’re talking about,” Hot Pie finished.

“Well what do you know about it?” Gendry snapped. For once, Hot Pie didn’t cower. He just looked sad. He had the same expression on his face that Arya had not moments ago. But Arya was gone and Hot Pie was just there staring at him.

“Her sister’s here,” Hot Pie finally said. “I heard her talking to Margaery Tyrell. Everyone knows.”

Gendry couldn’t dare ask. But couldn’t do nothing either. “Knows what?”

“Or they will by tomorrow,” Hot Pie said.

When Margaery Tyrell said something, everyone knew it.

Gendry took off in a second, not sure where he was going, but somehow getting there all the same.

Arya was fleeing down the steps of Beric’s house, her sister at her heels.

“Arya, I’m sorry.”

“Just forget it.”

Gendry stood in the doorway, watching her run to her car. Their voices carried and he wished that in this place, everyone wasn’t so good at listening.

“I didn’t tell her, I swear.”

“Can we just get out of here?” Arya snapped. “Margaery Tyrell telling me I’m starting to show in a room full of people wasn’t exactly how I wanted to spend the night.”

Sansa stopped short of the car. “I didn’t tell her.”

Arya looked back over her shoulder. “I never said you did.”

“You’re mad at me.”

“I just don’t understand why you were here tonight,” Arya said. “I don’t know why all of these people are here. I don’t know why I’m here.”

“I wouldn’t have called you if I thought…” Sansa exhaled in frustration. “I wasn’t about to ask Margaery for a ride home.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s a bitch who gossips about my little sister behind my back.”

For the first time that night, Gendry saw Arya smile. It was almost worth it. But he still knew that tomorrow, everything was going to get so much worse.

Sansa folded her arms across her chest. “You weren’t drinking tonight, were you? Or ever?”

Arya laughed shortly.

“You ran into the bathroom,” Sansa said.

“For six more months, I’m your designated driver,” Arya said, opening the car door, “remember?”


	10. Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I just want this to be over,” her voice wasn’t unkind. And still, he didn’t blame her. “Don’t you?”
> 
> The words came before she could stop them. “I don’t want this to be over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My intent was to only have Gendry's POV in the prologue and the epilogue. And as much as I still love that device, it really isn't working for this story. So Gendry's POV is going to be a little more liberal and hopefully sympathetic. Unofficially, this is the midpoint. Jon has a presence in this chapter. He isn't physically there, but his motivations are made clear and I really hope it's satisfying.

Gendry would have preferred to be alone.

That had always been his descriptor. Jon had liked to be alone too. He supposed to the two bastard boys had a lot to brood about. But Jon was a Stark in everything but name. Starks did the noble and selfless thing, Gendry was sure.

That was why he was sitting alone when Jon was out in the desert somewhere getting shot at. The rest of them acting like he was dead. Maybe he was. He was so far away, they wouldn’t even know. But despite the fact that Jon was a Stark and that he was courageous and selfless, Gendry still reserved the right to be furious with him.

He was so angry with him. One of the only friends he ever had – one of the only friends who he could truly relate to – and he just disappeared.

The summer that Arya had come back from Braavos with a blue streak in her dark hair, Gendry knew there was a reason why he was where he was. There was a reason his father had abandoned him. There was a reason that he lived in Flea Bottom while Arya lived in some castle in the sky. There was a reason why Jon was his best friend before Gendry had become Arya’s.

Gendry would have liked to be alone. Then he would never have been dragged into a world of complicated privilege. He never would have looked at Arya Stark.

He never would have coveted.

He blamed Jon for that too, but mostly, he blamed him for being alone. If he had just been left alone, he wouldn’t know what it was like to have something close to resembling a family. Arya had been like a sister to him.

Until she wasn’t anymore.

Gendry picked at the hot lunch on his tray. It was still better than the food he found on his side of town. He was trying very hard to be alone right now.

He was trying very hard to ignore every single thing he heard people were saying about Arya.

No one had ever cared about Sansa Stark’s little sister. No one had ever seen her the way that Gendry had. Now she was the school slut and the way they said things about her, she was worse than the Third Reich.

Gendry clenched his hand around his plastic spork. It broke.

Hot Pie really shouldn’t have sat next to him.

“I heard her mother sent her to a convent.”

Gendry would have liked to see that. She would have gone kicking and screaming. She would teach the nuns something about confession. But as of now, Gendry didn’t really like anything. Even his own friend. He liked this topic even less. He liked everything less.

“Don’t be stupid,” Gendry grumbled. Arya used to like to tell him that a lot.

Back before he drove her away. Back before Jon ruined everything.

Maybe he missed Jon most of all. Even though he knew he couldn’t possibly miss him more than Arya did. Maybe that was part of the whole problem. Maybe he should have been the one to leave.

“Did you hear it’s yours?” Hot Pie asked.

Gendry was very close to driving his broken spork into Hot Pie’s eye. It was a small consolation.

He had in fact, not heard that one. And he desperately hoped that wasn’t going around. She would probably hate that even more.

“Says who?” Gendry asked gruffly.

Whatever Hot Pie’s faults were, he knew the two of them. Gendry couldn’t deny that. He just didn’t want the stupid kid spreading it around.

“Come on.” Hot Pie had the gall to smile.

“What does that mean?” Gendry asked defensively. Too defensively.

“You guys have wrestled,” Hot Pie said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes and gravy. “It was only a matter of time.”

Gendry stabbed his spork into the white fluff. “Shut up.” The broken plastic stuck straight up.

It was halfway through the period when a wave of upperclassmen with blue passes were allowed into the cafeteria. Gendry knew that Arya ate during the period and sometimes art students came in. But Arya’s sister wasn’t with them, though he recognized Margaery Tyrell among some of them.

Margaery had a reputation of going down to Flea Bottom now and then to entertain the notion of being rebellious. Now she also had the reputation of being the reason that everyone knew the name of Sansa Stark’s little sister – her own best friend. It didn’t escape Gendry’s attention that Sansa was nowhere to be seen either.

“If you notice, she’s not even at school today.” Margaery was in line for the deli, right behind Gendry. He finally recognized the boy behind her, though he was the only one. Usually everyone recognized the silvery hair and customary good looks of Aegon Targaryen.

Gendry didn’t see the attraction.

“I don’t blame her,” Gendry heard Margaery continue. “Honestly. If I had let the mechanic knock me up and embarrassed my entire family, I wouldn’t want to show my face either. I would gladly let my mother send me away.”

Oddly enough, Gendry didn’t care that the girl was talking that way about him, or the fact that she didn’t seem to know who he was at all.

He had always preferred it alone.

It wasn’t that at all.

It was Aegon Targaryen VI. It was the pretentious rich kid he had seen talking to Arya on many occasions.

It was the way he laughed at everything some entitled bitch had to say.

“Gendry, no—“ He barely heard Hot Pie’s feeble protests. He barely understood what was happening until moments later when he heard the screams and his fist covered in the Targaryen kid’s blood.

Head wounds always bled a lot. He knew that, crouched over Aegon, driving his fist into his face. He hadn’t broken any teeth by the time a teacher had pulled him off.

If anything, that was excuse enough to take half a day. He was lucky to only get a week of detention. He strolled out of the principal’s office and headed straight for his car.

Maybe he could get some extra hours in at the shop before being resigned to a week of prison.

“I’m sure I have you to thank for that act of chivalry.”

Her voice had a hint of irony to it and when he turned around, Arya was smiling at him. Her arms were crossed over her stomach, but even through the overcoat, he could see her protruding stomach.

And so could everyone else, he knew 

“You saw?”

“I saw Aegon’s face,” Arya said. “And I see you.”

Gendry clenched his fist.

“It was stupid,” Gendry said. “He was just… talking.”

But she wasn’t angry. She was still smiling at him.

“Well… thanks.”

Gendry studied her suspiciously.

“I mean I could have done it myself,” Arya rolled her eyes. “But thanks.”

“Then I’m glad I did it,” Gendry said. “You shouldn’t be punching anyone right now. 

At that, Arya scowled.

“I didn’t think I’d see you today,” Gendry said before she could really punch him.

Arya’s shoulders slumped. She was putting on a brave front, but he could tell that she was already exhausted.

“I had to,” she finally said. “It’s what you would have done.”

His brows furrowed. “What would I have done?”

“The stupid thing,” she grinned. “The right thing.”

“I’ll be lucky if I don’t get fired for having to stay after school for detention every day this week.”

“Like I said,” Arya answered. “The stupid thing.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything.”

“The other night,” Gendry said, “at Beric’s.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Arya said.

“I know avoiding me is better for you,” Gendry said and she stiffened.

“Just for me?” she asked sharply.

“And it doesn’t matter,” Gendry continued. “No matter what, you’re always my friend.”

Gendry couldn’t remember the last time he had ever seen Arya Stark surprised. Her face wasn’t hard. For the first time, she let herself just look at him.

Even in the parkinglot, they could still hear the bell ring for the next period. Some freshmen came outside for their gym class and cast looks at Arya. She paid them no mind. She was only looking at Gendry. He had almost forgotten what her eyes looked like.

After a moment, she let herself laugh. “So, you thought my mother sent me to a convent like everyone else?”

“If she did I would have liked to see it.”

He missed her smile.

“I was cutting out,” Gendry said. “I could give you a ride home, if you wanted.”

Arya paused and he wondered if she was actually considering it for a moment. “I can’t.”

Gendry braced himself for the rejection, but it never came.

“Sansa drove me for half a day,” Arya said. “She would gut me if she found out I ditched.”

He nodded.

“And if she found out I took a ride from you.”

He didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but he didn’t ask.

“They need to see that I don’t care what they think,” Arya said. He knew that she truly didn’t care what any of them thought, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. He understood that. “Thank you.”

Gendry only shrugged.

“But it’s not a good idea.”

And there was the rejection he had been waiting for.

“I miss him too,” Gendry said. “But that doesn’t mean we have to punish ourselves over it.”

That was taboo. Bringing him up. But she only sighed.

“I just want this to be over,” her voice wasn’t unkind. And still, he didn’t blame her. “Don’t you?”

The words came before he could stop them. “I don’t want this to be over.”

Arya pulled her coat tighter around herself, but the both of them knew he wasn’t talking about the pregnancy. Her step towards him was so sudden he almost fell back. “You don’t?”

He had never heard her voice so soft before.

And then it was over. Sansa’s voice cracked like a whip. “Don’t you have a class to get to?”

Arya stepped away from him, her sister slamming the door to her car closed.

“I’ll be there in a second,” Arya said, irritated. That pleased something in Gendry.

“I’m picking you up out front after school today, alright?”

“Yes, _Mom_ ,” Arya snapped. Sansa hesitated but with a huff, finally walked inside. Arya turned back to him. “I have an ultrasound today.”

“I could…” Gendry didn’t know what he was saying. “I could come?”

It was a question and he knew it wasn't the right one. He knew the answer before she said it. Maybe he should be more resolved. 

Her eyes were sad.

“I could come as a friend,” he said. That was better, but still not good enough. “That’s all.”

“My mom’s coming.”

And he knew that put an end to that 

“Sorry,” he said.

“Don’t—“ Her voice was frustrated. She sighed. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what your mother must think of me now that everyone knows.”

That wasn’t what he had been expecting. “My mom?”

Arya nodded.

“I never…” Arya laughed bitterly, “I never wanted the same thing that happened to her happen to you.”

“You mean conceiving a bastard in the backseat of a car.”

Arya bit her lip but Gendry laughed. She looked at him uncertainly but gave him a begrudging smile.

“My mom loves you,” Gendry said. “You know that.”

“Even now?” He had never heard her so worried. And then he knew how many things Arya had been tearing herself up about for the past four months.

“Of course,” Gendry assured her. “She knows what it’s like. You know.”

“Fucking everything up.”

“Well if that’s how you feel about me,” Gendry said slyly.

Her smiles were becoming less rare.  “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make me forget why he left.”

His chest tightened. He had to say it again. “I miss him too.”

“I know.“

“And you don’t get to punish yourself without telling me,” Gendry said, “okay? Jon left because he couldn’t take it here. It had nothing to do with us.” He had had enough. He knew what she was doing, but he couldn't do it anymore. And he knew that she didn't want to either. The other night proved that.

“It had everything to with us,” Arya said. “He saw what was happening.”

“What was happening, Arya?” Gendry asked. “Tell me right now what happened, or don’t ever blame yourself again.”

He could see her struggling internally, but she still couldn’t say it.

“Jon didn’t have a monopoly over you,” Gendry said. “He was my friend and you were my friend. And maybe I didn’t have a right to look at you that way. But not because of Jon. Because someone like me never had a right to look that way at someone like you.”

“Don’t say that,” Arya said quietly.

“It’s true.”

“It isn’t,” Arya snapped angrily. But her rage faded quickly. “I looked at you that way too. But I never wanted to choose between you and my brother.”

“Don’t you get it?” Gendry asked. “The only thing I have to feel guilty about is that I never told Jon about what I wanted. But Jon didn’t leave because we betrayed him. He left because he was dying. And it’s selfish of you to think that was completely about you or completely about me. Jon could not stay in that house a second longer. He was tormented so he left.”

“It isn’t fair,” Arya said. “It wasn’t fair of him to just leave me.”

“Arya,” Gendry said gently. “You have your mother. All Jon had was blame. He had to go.”

“He didn’t say anything!” Arya said. “He turned eighteen and he joined the army. He left to go get himself killed and I haven’t heard of him since. He could be dead. He didn't tell me.”

“And it isn’t your fault,” he said. “It isn’t mine. My best friend left. I just didn’t think I would lose you too.”

He was sure this was the end. He was sure he had ruined everything in an instant. But Arya’s arms were around him. And suddenly everything was okay.

“You haven’t,” she said. “I’m sorry. You haven’t.”

They didn’t speak again. He just hugged her back and they just stood there.

Hours later, Arya knew that she wouldn’t be getting away with it. Sansa pulled around the school like she promised and as soon as Arya crawled into the front seat, Sansa spoke. “You idiot.”

Arya wasn’t in the mood for this. She was guilty enough for giving up her bastard when Gendry’s mother kept him. And yet somehow, Gendry didn’t seem to care.

Sansa cared. Somehow, Sansa knew about the whole thing.

“Can you just drive,” Arya said dourly.

“We’re talking about this,” Sansa said sharply, as though she hadn’t been the one to desperately need Arya’s help to pick her drunk self up from a party at Horn Hill. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“Arya.”

“I didn’t know.”

Sansa was quiet for a moment. She finally looked back at her sister. “Didn’t know what?”

“I didn’t know how unhappy Jon was,” Arya said. “I thought everything was normal.”

“No one could understand how Jon felt,” Sansa said. “He was alone. That’s the only reason Dad goes on like he does.”

“I thought that me loving him was enough.”

“He loved us,” Sansa said. “But Mom couldn’t stop herself. That doesn’t explain what you were doing with Gendry.”

“He’s my friend.”

“Since when? 

“I miss my friend,” she said quietly.

“I know you miss Jon,” Sansa said. “But he doesn’t factor into this. You were irresponsible with Gendry. Seeing him right now is tasteless.”

“What do you mean _seeing him_ ,” Arya scoffed.

“Arya.”

“I told you,” Arya said. “He’s my friend. I miss my friend. Why would I do anything else?”

Sansa gave her a pointed look, but said nothing more for the rest of the drive.

 _Because you love him_ hung on the air.

When Catelyn met them in the waiting room, she hugged her youngest daughter. Arya pulled her coat tighter around herself. Catelyn kissed her on the forehead. This was only the least of the slightly bizarre behavior Catelyn had been granting Arya lately.

When the ultrasound technician came in she said, “you know you’re going to have to take that off.”

Her tone of voice was stern and Catelyn regarded the woman coolly for a moment.

“It’s alright,” she said, helping Arya shrug out of the overcoat. For the first time that day, she could see herself. She was almost relieved that her mother hadn’t made a comment about it. But Catelyn hadn't been saying anything lately. Arya knew how she looked. She had seen Gendry’s eyes and she had seen the way everyone looked at her.

The only consolation had been Aegon’s face and Margaery’s victim routine. Sansa said nothing, but she said never said anything about her friend anymore. However, she did smile. Gendry’s knuckles would barely be bruised by the next day but Aegon would carry those scars for the rest of his life.

Arya could still feel her sister’s pointed look from the car but she still could not refer to Gendry as anything other than a friend. Her mother would have him gelded and it was hard enough for her to even regard him as that.

But now without the coat, she knew how she looked. She looked like a little girl. She had always looked younger than she was, but soon she knew that her own stomach would dwarf her.

She still got down on the table as the technician spread the gel on her rounded stomach. Her mother had been quiet for ages and Arya couldn’t bear to look at her. The only thing that made her brave was Sansa’s hand curled around hers. She held back tight.

“He wanted to be here.” Sansa's voice was soft and reassuring for some reason.

Arya cast her a warning look but her mother didn’t seem to hear. Sansa smiled and they both knew it was some source of comfort to her. Even if she couldn’t let it.

The first picture of Arya's child was met with the typical and predictable cooing and murmuring. Frankly, Arya considered herself lucky. She didn't deserve the pretense that this was some sort of planned and happy event.

“Sex?” The technician’s voice was dull..

“What?” Arya asked. She thought the answer to that question was fairly obvious.

“Would you like to know the sex of the child?”

Oh.

Her mother didn’t answer for her. And she suddenly realized that this was her decision. She looked back up at her mother. Catelyn wasn’t looking at her. She was staring at the picture of the screen.

“No,” Arya said softly. Catelyn looked back down at her daughter and smiled.

“Mom,” Sansa said. “Are you _crying_?”

Arya realized that she had been for several moments.

“My heart isn’t made out of stone,” Catelyn said stiffly, though it was clear she wanted to be regarded that way. “You’re giving a healthy child to parents who want one. That’s good." 

The technician wiped the cold gel off of Arya’s stomach. “You’re giving it up for adoption?”

For a moment, Arya didn’t understand what was happening. She couldn’t understand how it was any of the technician’s business, or why she sounded so relieved. And suddenly she couldn’t understand why her mother sounded to angry.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It was just a question, ma’am.”

Sansa’s eyes were wide, but she said nothing. The two sisters just watched the scene that unfolded between the two older women.

“You assume my daughter is too irresponsible to raise a child on her own?”

“That’s not at all what I said, ma’am.”

“I’ll have you know that out of my two daughters,” Catelyn said, “my youngest is the most sure footed and unrepentantly confidant young woman.” 

“ _Mom_ ,” Sansa said in begrudging protest.

“And despite her recent stumble,” Catelyn continued without missing a beat, “it only happened because she loves unconditionally.”

Arya was speechless. She knew suddenly that her mother saw her for exactly what she was and loved her.

“So yes,” Catelyn finished. “My daughter is giving up her unborn child for adoption. But only because it is the most responsible and brave decision she could ever make.”

“My mistake,” the technician said uncomfortably.

“I should say so,” Catelyn retaliated.

They were lucky they hadn't been kicked out. But strangely, Arya felt a swell of pride for her mother. She felt proud that Catelyn Stark had defended her actions. And she was proud that Catelyn Stark was her mother. And even after all of that, Sansa smiled at her little sister.

Arya sat next to her mother as they drove home. She wanted to say something, but she couldn’t think of anything. It was only when they pulled in to the driveway did she say the obvious.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Arya said, picking at a loose thread on her jeans. “For everything.”

“I know.” Her voice was clinical. But she looked over at her youngest and pregnant daughter. Arya saw Catelyn smile at her. “I was never as brave as you when I was your age. Not even now. I can’t be selfless. But I am sorry.”

Jon would never heard the words, but Arya accepted them all the same.

“You’re more like your father’s sister in that regard.”

“I’m your daughter,” Arya insisted.

Catelyn smiled at her daughter.


	11. Behind Blue Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Lots of deadbeat fathers leave bastards and their pretty mothers,” Arya said pointedly. “But I’m not one of them.”

Cersei Baratheon frightened her. Not in the powerful woman way that brought men to heel – Arya didn’t care about that. But Cersei Baratheon represented something that Arya couldn’t even understand. Cersei represented Margaery Tyrell and Sansa’s attraction to a lifestyle that simply baffled her. 

Arya could never see it. Ending up in a huge house with a domineering husband and social engagements was never a way that she had ever wanted to live. She liked being a Stark but not all of the obligations that being a Stark came with. Her father had understood that.

If his brother Brandon had survived, her life could have been completely different. But as luck would have it, Arya was on her way to Cersei Baratheon’s house to drop off a sonogram. Getting on that woman’s bad side seemed tedious and not something she fancied herself getting involved with. She could just drop off the picture and hopefully that would placate the woman. Then she could get out of the scary house as fast as possible.

That had been the plan.

Arya was horrible with plans.

When she knocked on the door of the grand mansion, it wasn’t Cersei who answered the door at all, but Robert. Arya had been under the impression that Robert was more like her father and actually had employment. She knew at the very least, that’s how they had met in their youth. But it was becoming very clear to her now how very wrong she was on all counts.

Robert grinned widely the moment he saw her and Arya wished desperately she had the ability to turn invisible.

But when Robert invited her in the house, she knew that she had no choice but to accept graciously like the attempt at a lady that her mother was trying to push her to being. Even the grunge-y Arya Stark couldn’t just run away after ringing the bell. 

When she stepped into the foyer, the door closed behind her with a foreboding snap and she felt herself ominously sealed inside.

“So where’s Cersei?”

She had no choice but to follow Robert into the kitchen. He didn’t answer at first, and Arya knew that she wasn’t home. But he didn’t seem to have sense knocked into him at all.

He just opened the fridge. “Drink?”

From her vantage point she could see the shelves lined with beer – which she was sure were not Cersei’s choice – and she felt her stomach turn to stone. But when he turned around he was holding soda and she took it without complaint, not sure how to politely reject anything at this moment.

The fridge rattled with Cersei’s winecoolers as he shut the door.

“Thanks,” Arya said dryly, though didn’t take a sip of it. Robert drank deeply, not taking his eyes from her.

“So what’s with the surprise visit?”

Arya would have preferred if his tone was accusing. 

It wasn’t.

“I was hoping Cersei was home,” Arya said, straight to the point. “I went to the doctor’s today. I thought she might want to see the sonogram.”

“Oh?” Robert asked, though he didn’t seem particularly excited. “Let’s see it, then.”

Arya bent down and fumbled around in her satchel for several moments. She finally found the slightly crumpled picture and held it up for Robert to see.

Robert held it towards his face, his eyes narrowing at the fuzzy picture. For a moment, his blue eyes turned into someone else’s and she wondered what it would be like if Gendry was looking at a picture of his own child. 

The moment was over in a snap and she felt revolted with herself. She looked up to see Robert holding the picture towards her again.

“Could be a Baratheon,” he said gruffly as she tucked it away.

“It will be,” Arya said forcefully. “So you don’t have any idea when Cersei will be home?” 

“Later, I’m sure,” Robert said. “She has a meeting with the foundation ladies or something.”

Silence stretched between them.

“What are you doing home?” Arya asked.

He smiled for a moment. “You’re a little impudent, aren’t you?”

Arya only shrugged. 

“I can work from home most days,” Robert said. “It comes with the territory of being boss.” 

Arya’s father never worked from home, but she decided not to say that.

“You didn’t ask what it was?” Robert asked at her silence.

“Ask what?” Arya asked.

“The sex.”

She didn’t know why that made her so uncomfortable.

“No,” she said simply. That would mean it was real. And it couldn’t be real. She couldn’t let it. Her problems were real enough. “I could ask for you if you wanted.”

“You don’t want to know?” Robert asked curiously.

“It’s yours,” Arya said. “Not mine.”

“What does the father say?” Robert asked. 

She supposed there would have to be a father biologically. But she really didn’t want to discuss that with Robert. She shouldn’t be discussing anything with him. “He doesn’t say anything.” 

She had given them the picture but she was still standing in his kitchen and she didn’t know why.

“Hard to believe he could leave a pretty thing like you.”

Arya grimaced. “I never said he left me.”

She couldn’t explain what had happened between them. It had just been the three of them. But after she came back from Braavos, everything was different. Jon was distant. Gendry was quiet. She played her drums hard and Gendry played louder.

Jon didn’t play at all. And then he was gone. Then she understood what wanting what something she couldn’t have was like.

She had been lucky to have Gendry as her friend. She shouldn’t have wanted more. She never thought she would want anything of the sort.

She supposed a part of her had always wanted to blame Gendry. That was why she pushed him away. If he hadn’t let her come on to him, Jon wouldn’t have thought Gendry was violating his little sister. And everything would be normal.

To say the least, that wasn’t how things had gone. Now she didn’t have her brother. She barely had Gendry. Being his friend was enough.

It had to be.

“Lots of deadbeat fathers leave bastards and their pretty mothers,” Arya said pointedly. “But I’m not one of them.”

She didn’t know why she was so suddenly angry. But looking at Robert and his stupid blue eyes, she thought of her brother. She thought of her best friend and the parents they would never know.

Her child would have parents and be loved. She would make damn sure of that.

“No, he couldn’t leave you.”

Arya was shocked. That hadn’t been what she meant at all. “I’m not pretty.”

Robert took slow steps towards her. “I wouldn’t say that. Not at all.”

Arya had been sure what he was drinking was non-alcoholic, but now she felt queasy.

He took the bottle that she wasn’t drinking from her hand and placed it on the counter.

“He’s not in the picture?” he asked gently.

“I thought it would be better if he weren’t involved,” Arya said. “Easier.”

“What’s his name?” Robert asked.

Arya hesitated only a moment. “Gendry.”

“Gendry,” Robert mused. “Good name.”

“Yes.” She didn’t know why she sounded so sharp. But she had stayed here longer than she ever had the right. She held the sonogram tight between her fingers. “I’ll just leave this here for Cersei, then.”

Robert’s voice called out to her as she tried to make her way towards the foyer. “Stay awhile.”

Arya wondered vaguely what sort of work he was doing from home. She wondered if it entailed entertaining a pregnant sixteen-year-old. As much as she wished that she could just flee, she felt like she was in quicksand.

“I should really be heading back.”

“We could watch a movie,” he offered hastily. “Or we could listen to something. Do you like music?”

Arya thought that was a dumb question.

“I have some stuff in vinyl—“

_“What is going on here?”_

Arya had never been so relieved to see Cersei Baratheon in her life. She let go of the breath that she didn’t know she was holding in and Cersei dropped her shopping bags to the floor.

“You’re home early,” Robert said pleasantly, but only a fool would miss the tension in the air.

“You seem positively giddy about it.” Cersei’s voice snapped like a whip. Her eyes zeroed in on Arya. She had already put Cersei between her and Robert as her fingers curled.

“I only came to give you this.”

Robert’s eyes darkened and Arya knew it sounded like a defense.

For the first time, Cersei’s eyes softened as she reached forward with a slightly unsteady hand. The sonogram was ripped at the corners, but the center was unblemished.

“Is this…”

“Yes,” Arya answered. “That’s… the little thing.”

Referring to it by anything else seemed like a mistake.

“I just came from to doctor’s,” Arya said.

“And everything seems…” Cersei asked. “Standard?”

She really was a no nonesense woman.

“Very standard,” Arya said. “Nothing to worry about at all.”

Cersei seemed to get the message. There was no reason for her to stay so she escorted Arya out of the house.

Afterwards, the place was as quiet as it had been before. As it always was. Cersei’s heels clacked on the floor.

Robert didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. These would be the only words they would exchange that night.

“She’s sixteen.”

“Yes. 

“She’s _pregnant_." 

“I realize that.”

“No,” Cersei cut in. “You don’t. All you see is _her_.”

And they weren’t talking about Arya.

* * *

Arya still hadn’t caught her breath when she got home. The morning sickness seemed to have stopped, but she still felt nauseated with herself. Only when she had slammed the door and dropped her bag did she realize her mother was staring at her from the living room.

“Arya?”

She knew she couldn’t hide this. From all the lies and secrets she had been hiding from the beginning, it had been enough. This was something that she couldn’t pretend didn’t happen or it would make her look guilty.

And even though she was sure she hadn’t done anything wrong, all she felt was guilt.

Arya didn’t move from her position against the door and Catelyn’s face was a mask of concern. She got up from the couch and went to her daughter.

“You’re home late,” she chastised gently. “You know I don’t like that.”

Arya wasn’t tired of her mother’s control. Now, it even seemed reasonable. Home was a welcome at this point. Her mother’s incessant nagging almost came as a relief.

“I know,” Arya answered, trudging towards the couch and collapsing onto it. “It won’t happen again.”

“You’ve said that before,” Catelyn reminded her, sitting next to her. That had been before Arya’s girth was expanding with every giving day. And funnily enough, those had been simpler times.

“I’m sorry.”

Catelyn studied her daughter suspicious for a moment. “Where have you been all day?”

It sounded accusatory but then again, Catelyn probably knew exactly where her daughter had been.

Arya was too exhausted to put up a front. “The Baratheons’.”

Catelyn’s eyes widened in horror and Arya could feel it happening in slow motion. Apparently everyone was more aware of her mistakes before she even was. Arya was sure the scandal of getting pregnant before the prom was horrifying enough. Catelyn could still always surprise her, she gave her that.

“ _Arya_.”

It was clear Catelyn was more than scandalized. 

“You can’t just drop in on them like that,” Catleyn said. “This is highly inappropriate.” 

Arya was sure she still hadn’t had the punishment she deserved, but this all seemed very tedious to her. “I know.”

“Arya. He’s married.”

Arya wasn’t sure what her mother was trying to insinuate. She may have conceived a bastard but she didn't go around seducing middle aged men that were friends of her father’s.

“I _know_ , Mom,” Arya said sharply. “It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have gone. I just thought I would keep them updated.”

Catelyn was quit for a moment.

"What happened?” Her voice was even more fraught with concern. “Did he… _do_ something?” 

For a moment, Arya almost wished that she had seduced her father’s best friend. It would be better than the truth. She didn’t know what the truth was, but it seemed awful to her. 

“He’s just… weird,” Arya settled on. “Cersei came home and I could leave.”

“He kept you there,” Catelyn said, her voice devastated. 

As uncomfortable as Robert always made her, Arya wasn’t sure what her mother sounded so depressed about. It wasn’t as though anything had happened.

“It’s fine,” Arya assured her. She put her arm around her mother and was shocked to discover that she was actually the one doing the comforting. “I’m not going back.”

“No,” Catelyn said strictly. “You’re not.” 

Arya supposed that was as much bonding as they were going to get for that day. But her mother pulled her into an affectionate embrace and held her there. Arya was sure more of these had happened in the past four months than her entire life combined.

When she finally pulled away, her mother’s eyes looked wet. But she smiled, stroking back her daughter’s hair.

“You have such lovely eyes.”

Arya wanted to pull away. She didn’t understand how suddenly everyone thought she was so nice to look at. Probably because she was getting fat. But for a moment, it didn’t look like her mother was looking at her at all. She was looking at something else. Arya couldn’t be sure what that was. 

“Please,” Cately urged, “be careful.”

“It’s fine,” Arya said, almost insulted. “I can take care of myself.” 

“I know. But you can’t understand…”

Arya knew what this was. How her parents stopped talking the moment she walked into the room. The way they looked at her differently like they had never before. She knew they were keeping something from her. She couldn’t really think about what would be so terrible.

“I would if you’d explain it,” Arya pressed.

But just as Catelyn opened her mouth, they heard the door swing open and her father called from the hall. She knew at that moment that conversation was over and they wouldn’t be having it for a long time. 

Ned walked in smiling but the moment he caught his wife and his daughter looking at him like that, his face dropped.

Catelyn exhaled, leaning back on the couch. “I think I’m getting a migraine.”

Arya’s disappointed eyed soon turned sad. She leaned over and kissed her mother gently on the temple. 

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

She smiled at her father as she pulled herself up the stairs.

Ned walked tentatively over towards his wife. “What happened?” 

Catelyn shook her head. “I told you.” 

“What?” Ned asked in exasperation.

“Your friend is more dangerous than you admit.”

“He isn’t dangerous.”

“An idiot, then,” Catelyn snapped.

“She can take care of herself,” Ned said harshly.

Catelyn’s smile was steely.

“Yes,” she said. “Just like her aunt, isn’t she? Now more than ever. A Stark through and through.”


	12. I Bleed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The last person I ever wanted to hurt was Gendry. But that’s all I seem to do lately. It was selfish of me. I never wanted to ruin his life. But just being in the state I am – I’ve ruined him. I can’t take that back. He should be able to go off and have a better life. If he didn’t know me, he would have been able to do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do hope to have regular updates. I'm going back to school in a week, so I'll do my best.

Arya was already doing 90 to Flea Bottom before she realized it. She was sure she could get herself out of a ticket if it was absolutely necessary, but that wasn’t what was bothering her. There were many things on her mind but surprisingly, being in high school and pregnant was not on the top of the list and running red lights to the _father’s_  - she hated thinking of him that way - house was probably only second.

His mother answered the door.

Serra Waters was probably one of the most beautiful women Arya had ever have into contact with. Catelyn had her own brand of stern beauty, but Gendry’s mother had a hold onto youth that never made her seem older than thirty.

She had long blonde hair making it clear that Gendry took after his father, whoever he was. But his mannerisms were his mother's. And his kindness. Arya had known that fact since she met him. The only time Serra ever mentioned Gendry's father was to tell him how little he was like him.

“I had a feeling you might be coming around.” Gendry’s mother opened the door for Arya and she stepped in hesitantly.

“You did?” Arya asked doubtfully.

Serra only smiled warmly and Arya found herself wanting to reciprocate. Gendry had always been resentful of his lifestyle. But when Arya found herself speaking with his mother, she found herself jealous. If there was one thing Gendry had been rich in, it was a maternal figure.

“He only came out for school, work, and meals,” Serra answered. “Until recently.”

Serra was looking at Arya too pointedly for her taste.

“What happened recently?” Arya asked.

She smiled, all too encouraging. “I assume you came back into his life again.”

Arya couldn’t say that had been her intention at all. As her relationship with Gendry had always been, it was only impulse and rash decisions. But she couldn’t say that she didn’t like it better this way.

His mother seemed to understand that. “But something also tells me this isn’t a happy social call.”

Arya could only shrug her shoulders uncertainly. If Gendry had problems vocalizing his feelings, then they were a matched set.

“It wasn’t so long ago that I was going through exactly the same thing, you know.” She said it kindly.

“Gendry said as much,” Arya remembered dully. As if she needed a reminder. It was staring back at her every time she looked in the mirror. Her mother was hinting at taking her maternity shopping now.

“It isn’t mean to be reprimanding." Serra noted Arya's misery. “I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

“Then I’m sure you know that I don’t plan on keeping it.” The guilt ate away at her. “I know that I’m ruining his life.”

Arya wished Serra would stop smiling. This whole situation was very disconcerting.

“You know that none of that matters,” she said. “Not really.”

“What do you mean?”

“The way he feels about you.” Serra was always casual and easy to talk to.

This was the last conversation that they should be having. Arya cut that thought off immediately.

“He doesn’t.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?” she asked, not unkindly.

“No. He doesn’t,” Arya sputtered. “It was a mistake. That’s what he thinks.”

“Why? Did he say so?” 

“Jon was his best friend,” Arya said. “And Jon left because he knew…”

“He knew that my son was in love with you.”

There it was. And nothing could change that. Jon had always been the only person who had accepted her.

But then she met Gendry.

Now everything was confused. 

“I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t the sort of conversation you want to be having with the mother,” she smiled.

Now Arya would be a mother. No matter what, this couldn’t be erased.  And she found herself opening up to the only person that she could - the only person that could understand. 

“We lost control and pushed Jon away because of it.”

She nodded her head understandingly. “Of your hormones.”

Arya shifted uncomfortably. Gendry’s mother had spent all of his life working at a cheap clinic and had the habit of being more supportive and insightful than Arya was comfortable with.

“We betrayed him.”

Arya watched the woman arch her eyebrow. “A little dramatic, don’t you think?”

Arya shrugged. 

“You think your brother ran away from home and shipped himself off to Afghanistan because my son had a thing for you?”

“They were best friends.” But even in her mind, the excuse was feeble. Even her mind, she could hear the desperation and the narcissism.

“Gendry doesn’t believe it either,” his mother announced. “But he pretends to for you.”

Arya didn’t like the sound of that at all.

His mother smiled encouragingly. “My son has always felt like an outsider. I wish I could have helped that for him. But we’re born the way we are and it can’t be helped. He never felt like he had a true family. That is until you and your brother.”

Guilt washed over Arya yet again. For Gendry and for Jon.

Then again, it was probably that narcissism. She had to remind herself that everything wasn’t about her, though that was hard to do five months pregnant and counting.

“No matter what reason he left, your family has been a surrogate for Gendry.”

“He never told me that,” Arya mumbled.

“Gendry is more noble than he gives himself credit for,” she answered. “A trait I am not certain where he inherited from. Certainly not from his father.”

“I hate nobility,” Arya cut in.

The woman smiled. “Men are stupid sometimes.”

Despite the earlier events of that day, Arya found herself laughing. It lasted only moments, but she could find herself at ease.

“This is just harder than I thought it would be.”

“How easy did you think it would be?” 

Arya didn’t think his mother was brusque in any sense. Maybe it was curiosity. But Arya knew it wasn’t comfort.

“It didn’t occur to me,” Arya said with quite some difficulty. “It should have. Knowing him, it should. The last person I ever wanted to hurt was Gendry. But that’s all I seem to do lately. It was selfish of me. I never wanted to ruin his life. But just being in the state I am – I’ve ruined him. I can’t take that back. He should be able to go off and have a better life. If he didn’t know me, he would have been able to do that.”

Arya didn’t expect his mother to be understanding. But somehow, she seemed to be smiling sympathetically at her.

“Whatever has happened,” Serra said, “you haven’t ruined anything. You’ll never catch Gendry saying that. Nor me. Because it isn’t true. And you know why.”

Arya would never admit it. She knew what his mother thought – what everyone else thought – but it couldn’t be true.

Gendry couldn’t love her. No matter the alien yearning she felt when Jon was still in her life. No matter the evidence in her womb.

She wouldn’t even start with her own heart. That was cliché and boring and she wouldn’t have it. Not now. Not when everything was so complicated.

Arya knew not to be hurt at the surprise on Gendry’s face when she knocked on the open door to his room. She knew because she caught the joy on his face that followed.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was concerned.

He seemed to always be the one concerned for her, though she was the last one who ever needed that. If he was going to be her friend now, he should just accept that. 

Still, Arya took that as an invitation to enter the room. Gendry was slumped on the floor next to his guitar, his back against his dresser in the cramped room. She tried to smile, but the past events of the day still kept rushing back. His eyes were still narrowed when something suddenly struck her.

She started searching through her satchel. She could feel his eyes on her.

“I know it was your birthday, a little while ago,” she started. It had been months ago. But after the scene of him grabbing her by the arm and pulling her towards his car. After that, she couldn't bear facing him. It was only in her better nature that thought to get him something. And then the plus sign appeared and everything had been forgotten

His face dropped. Her voice was ashamed, but he couldn’t think of any reason for her to be. She looked a little pale, but he wasn’t sure what that had to do with it.

But she was still Arya. 

“Yeah,” he said, unable to help the bashful smile on his face as he got to his feet. Suddenly it was as though nothing had changed. She was the little sister he could never want. “It was.”

Arya thrust as small box in his direction, refusing to meet his eyes. He took it, trying not to open it too hastily.

She saw his eyes widened and she knew that stupid look on his meant he was happy.

“You can buy porn and cigarettes legally now,” she was saying.  He ignored her attempted jibe. “Congratulations. And happy birthday.”

"Three months ago." Gendry took the tickets gingerly out of the bottle. "But thanks. This is amazing.”

He sounded so sincere. For once, Arya let herself look smug. “I know. I’m the best.”

And as she had often found in his presence, her troubles were strangely forgotten. 

“There are two,” he said stated, examining the contents.

Arya shrugged it off. “If you want to bring Jeyne Heddle or whatever.”

He didn’t know if Arya got her name wrong on purpose but he didn’t care. He was pretty sure the girl he had only talked to twice had a sister named Jeyne. But at that precise moment, he couldn’t even remember her face.

“You love the Pixies,” Gendry pointed out, fingering the tickets.

“So do you,” Arya reminded him. “And it’s your birthday.”

She was being annoyingly noble. He couldn’t remember her ever doing that before. Pregnancy was doing weird things to her.

“Then I want you to come with me,” he stated.

She didn’t answer. He knew he had broken the spell but he pushed on.

“The date for the concert. It’s this summer.”

“Yeah.” Her voice was suspicious.

“It’s for… after.”

After she gave birth. He seemed to be able to do the math okay. That was at least something.

“What do you think is going to happen after, Gendry?” Arya asked quietly.

This didn’t feel like a trap. And Arya didn’t do things like that. She really wanted to know. So did he, but she was asking him.

“We could…” Her eyes always made him nervous. He could never form coherent thoughts around her. “You know." 

Her dark eyebrows rose but she didn’t press him.

“We could go together,” he finally said lamely. She always made him feel that way.

“We could go together.” She sounded like she was trying it out.

She didn’t give the verdict. But she didn’t say no. That was something. Gendry closed the box gently and stowed it carefully on the desk next to his guitar. He would always see it there. He tried to ignore the fact that a picture of Arya was tacked to his wall right above it. She was at her drum kit, her hair flying as she brought her sticks down. She only ever grinned like that when she was playing.

Gendry looked away from the picture quickly, pretending to straighten things up on his desk. When he turned around, he was relieved that she wasn’t watching.

She shifted her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He realized that she wasn’t used to the dramatic increase of her own weight on her tiny feet. His hand wrapped around hers before he could stop it.

She stared but didn’t pull away.

“Sit down.”

“I can’t,” Arya said suddenly. He felt her slipped away and he tightened his grip. “I shouldn’t have—“

“Arya.”

She looked up. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“Why?” She didn’t answer and he remembered her face when she first walked in. “What happened?”

She did pull away this time.

“What’s wrong?” he urged. “I can help.”

He couldn’t recall someone ever needing or benefiting from his help before but suddenly they were kissing and he knew that was exactly what she needed at that moment.

He was helping her.

He wrapped his arms around her though careful not to crush her. Her bag slid from her shoulder and onto the floor. She was more comfortable now and stood on her toes, tightening her arms around his neck. He bent down lower to accommodate her.

He pulled her closer, his hands drifting. She could almost accept this. She could almost forget everything. Now she remembered what had happened in the back of that car. Now she remembered what she had wanted. But his hand went to far and the moment she felt it on her stomach, she snapped away.

He didn’t look confused. “Sorry.” It was his default setting.

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s just…”

“What?”

“Different.”

His smile was wry. “Things were different before this happened.”

It came out before she could stop it. “I still missed you.”

His eyes widened and she started to cry.

Gendry stood there for a moment. Never in his life had he ever seen Arya Stark cry. He had seen her scowl, punch, and scream before. Crying was a new one for him and he didn’t know how to react. And then it hit him.

It was Arya. And there was only one way to react. He reached out for her, attempting to put a comforting arm around her shoulder. He would have laughed at her reaction.

She shoved him away. She was shaking her head vigorously.

“It’s nothing. It’s just—“ Then she was laughing. His mother was right. “Hormones.”

Gendry came in more slowly this time. Sometimes Arya was more of a skittish deer than a wolf. Then again, wolves got scared too. She would just never admit it.

“I’m fine,” she chastized him through gritted teeth.

But he just couldn’t believe her. “What happened?” She let him put his arm around her again.

“You don’t have to.”

He wasn’t sure if he was referring to hugging her or being invested in this. Either way, he was inclined to disagree.

“I’m just stupid,” Arya said.

Gendry couldn’t help but laugh out loud this time. She kicked him hard in the shin.

“This is why I don’t tell you things.”

He knew that it wasn’t, but he humored her.

“You’re never stupid,” he said. “It’s everyone else that’s stupid.”

“Even you wouldn’t have—“

“Wouldn’t have what?”

Her face had fallen and he was very aware of how stationary they were. He took her hand and she let him.

“I wonder if there will be a point where you’re too immature for bean bag chairs,” Arya said crossly, but allowed Gendry to help her into a sitting position. She wasn’t that far along, but enough to take longer than she normally would treading up the stairs.

“Don’t change the subject,” he said. On that, he was unmovable.

“I think my father knows something more than I don’t,” Arya said slowly. “He must. How could he want his grandchild to go to someone like that?”

“Cersei Lannister.” Gendry used the woman’s maiden name, as she was most notorious for.

Arya shook her head. “Her husband.”

Gendry shared her disturbed look.

“What did he do?”

It was almost as if Gendry could smell it on her. Shame was easy to smell on Arya.

“He didn’t _do_ anything, he’s just—“ Gendry’s hands were balled into fists on his thigh. “He must hate his wife very much.”

“I never thought anyone could make Arya Stark uncomfortable.”

“That’s a lie.”

But it wasn’t an accusation.

“I have to do this,” Arya said after a moment.

“Because we can’t do this.” 

“How can we?” she asked.

“They can do a better job?” Gendry asked coldly. "The middle-aged guy that's putting the moves on you?"

"He's not putting the _moves_ on me," Arya said indignantly.

"Then what?" Gendry demanded. There was only one conclusion to jump to at this point.

“Never once have you said you wanted to do this,” Arya said accusatorily instead. She didn’t want to hear the answer, but she felt that it was worth stating for the record.

“As if you would let me,” Gendry said. “But you think it’s better that way.”

Her word had always been law. Even before this.

“It doesn’t mean I like it,” Arya said gruffly. “It doesn’t mean I chose this. They’re friends of my dad’s. They’re rich.” She said the last word with distaste.

“You’re rich,” Gendry pointed out.

Arya flinched. He knew that she hated being compared to people like that. She hated the lifestyle, but it was all that Gendry could see.

“It’s just a fact, Arya.”

“And it’s just a fact that nothing can ever be like it was between us.”

Gendry’s eyes narrowed. He knew that she said it just to hurt him. She was good at that even when she wasn’t trying. Especially when she wasn't trying. But this was different. There was truth underlying it. Something that she thought was the truth. She had always been an extremist. And she really thought that this was irreparable.

Maybe he was too optimistic. Or maybe he was too fond of her. He couldn’t use that other word. The word he banned from even thinking of in Jon’s presence.

The one word he thought in the back of that car. The one he felt when his mother looked at him knowingly, watching as little pregnant Arya Stark entered the room and closed the door behind her.

“I don’t think that,” Gendry said quietly.

“Yes, you do,” Arya said. “You’re just too stupid to realize it.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

He made her speechless. He made her dumb. She had come to that conclusion. She didn’t know how to respond to that.

His piercing eyes were suddenly soft and she felt the apology in there. He moved closer to her. She looked down, the veil of her dark hair obscuring her face. It was longer now. It had grown so long, past her shoulders. It had been growing too fast for her to chop off. Some of which may be attributed to Sansa and her mother.

It shone and he leaned against her. It was soft against his face and he could smell her. He didn’t know any other instance where she would allow this. He would take what he could get.

“I guess I’m too full of myself to hang out with you, then.” Her voice was thick.

“No,” he insisted, his voice more scratchy than hers. He couldn’t let her to leave. He didn’t want her to. “I didn’t mean it like that. But you know we don’t come from the same place.”

“I told you,” Arya said, her voice quiet. “That never mattered to me.”

“It matters to other people.”

“You care about what other people think but not me?” she asked. She finally looked at him.

“No,” he said. He was cursing himself as he said it. She would punch him for being so lame and corny. But it was too late for that. “All I care about is you.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Her go-to line.

He didn’t expect anything less.

“I think you’ll just have to expect that about me.”

At least it got a smile out of her.

“Only an idiot would want me. Especially like this.”

“You wouldn’t be like this if someone didn’t want you,” Gendry grumbled. He knew exactly how many people wanted her even if she didn’t.

“Well now they definitely won’t,” Arya said stubbornly. “Sansa’s my sister and I’ve gained about a hundred pounds." 

“You’ll always be beautiful,” Gendry said. “Even the guy adopting your baby knows that.”

He was careful not to use the word _our_. He didn’t know how that would go over. She was always unpredictable.

“I never said that.”

“But that’s what happened,” Gendry said, “wasn’t it?”

Arya almost growled from frustration. “I’m not beautiful. And you have to say that. I’m _delicate_.” She clearly did not think so, but she had also been hanging out far too much with Sansa.

“You’ll never be delicate,” Gendry snorted. He had always liked that about her. Loved that about her. “And you are. Beautiful.”

“Sansa—“ Arya started.

“Stop,” Gendry said. If he had been interested in girls like Sansa, this would be a whole different conversation and she knew that.

“Oh come on.” 

“You can’t tell me how I feel,” Gendry said. “I’ve always liked you better.”

Arya’s smile was tight. “I don’t know why people keep saying that." 

“Who says that? Aegon Targaryen?” He wished he hadn’t said it, but it just came out. And the moment he did, he knew that she didn’t get it. She never would. Even now with him in front of her, he had to bash it in her head that he still didn’t want to leave her. That they hadn’t been just some freak accident.

That they were right together.

Arya’s brow furrowed indeed in confusion. “Why would he be talking to me?”

“I saw him talking to you,” Gendry said, knowing the time for being casual had gone. As if he ever had any subtlety. “At the club.”

“Oh that,” Arya said crossly. “He told me that Margaery was telling everyone about me.”

Gendry ground his teeth. “That was nice of him.”

“I saw Willow Heddle at your show,” Arya countered.

Gendry wished he could stop the slow smirk he felt spreading across his face. “So?” It was the only thing he could beat her at.

She only scowled.

“Hot Pie was there too,” Gendry said. “Are we going to start naming random people in attendance?”

“Then shut up about that Targaryen jock.”

“I will if you will.”

She only glowered. He had missed this side of her. He missed his friend. He would only let himself think that far. Beyond friend was no-man’s-land.

“He was talking about wanting to all play together again,” Gendry mentioned.

The picture of Arya above his new tickets grinned at him. He wondered if she would ever grin at him like that ever again.

“Targaryen?”

He really wished she would stop talking about him – even if he had been the one to bring him up. “Hot Pie." 

“What did you tell him?” she asked.

“That it wasn’t up to me,” he answered honestly.

She looked confused again. “Who is it up to?”

“Who it’s always up to.”

He hated being cryptic and he knew she did too. She struggled to her feet. She couldn't address this conversation. Somehow the band was even more intimate than teasing each other about romantic entaglements. The band was too personal and she couldn't even think about it. He lurched up, needing to help her. Their hands only brushed for a moment. He was sure she was going to make a break it. But she was only quiet. She was thinking and he was impressed that she repressed the urge to bolt.

“I would keep it, you know,” she finally said. “I just… I’m not ready. I can’t be a mother yet.”

“I know.” He wasn’t any more ready than she was.

“I would keep it.”

“You don’t need to feel guilty.” He knew what she was struggling with. Honor ran too strongly within the Starks.

“I would keep it with you.”

The radio was humming and she recognized the song. She had a strange smile on her face and Gendry knew exactly what she was thinking of.

“When this is all over.” 

He looked up in surprise at her admission. He went over and turned up the volume.

“You should take the ticket, then,” he said vaguely. “I don’t want to lose it.”

They both knew he didn’t want her to change her mind.

“You won’t.”

She would never be the skittish deer. She was always the wolf. She let him hold her. They stood together for a moment and he could feel her mouthing the words. She could practically feel the drum sticks in her hand and his chords vibrating. Soundlessly they started to sway to the raw music.

He never expected them to be romantic.

But they still danced together.

 


	13. Shut Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa didn’t recognize the song playing through the speakers. Bran would know. It sounded sufficiently depressing to her, but Arya seemed to frequently need to be in this particular headspace about bleeding while vampires fed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're in the home stretch. I have the rest of the chapters of this story named and sketched out. This story was all about Arya and Gendry's journey towards each other. For those of you who stayed since the beginning, that means the world to me. I know it hasn't been easy. And those of you who came along the way, you've kept me going.
> 
> This is short, but it's also important. I like to refer to it as "What Really Happened Between Arya and Gendry After Jon Left." Or at least a teaser.

Arya hadn’t come out of her room since she burst in the night before, and began listening to the Pixies on a constant loop. That was what Bran informed Sansa the band was called, but she found that inconsequential at that point. Her little sister had already skipped dinner, and she found a fierce protectiveness flare up inside her that was so unfamiliar to her. It had become more familiar recently.

Sansa took a wire hanger to Arya’s door before she realized it was unlocked.

Arya was slumped on her bed and Sansa saw the problem immediately. A problem that most everyone at their school would see the moment they saw her the next morning. Arya always had a thick skin since they were children. Sansa hated to admit that the fault of that remained with her. If there was anyone that hadn’t known Arya was pregnant, they would now. And Sansa still knew that had nothing to do with the scowl that was aimed at her.

“Did Mom catch you standing in front of the microwave again?” Sansa asked, jumping onto the bed next to Arya. “You know that’s bad for you.”

“Just on the infinite list of things I can’t have." Arya's voice was a dull contrast to Sansa's attempt at being jovial.

“I didn’t realize you felt so strongly about jagerbombs.”

Arya didn’t take the bait. Sansa knew she wouldn’t. So she slid onto her back, parroting Arya’s dead stare at the ceiling.

“Did you see Gendry last night?” Sansa finally whispered.

“Yes.”

“Was he being stupid as usual?”

Arya still wouldn’t laugh, but Sansa didn’t expect her to.

“Yes.” Arya’s voice wasn’t deadpan or angry. Sansa didn’t recognize the song playing through the speakers. Bran would know. It sounded sufficiently depressing to her, but Arya seemed to frequently need to be in this particular headspace about bleeding while vampires fed.

“What happened?” Sansa ventured.

“People need to stop asking me that.”

Sansa waited. “Well?”

“It’s complicated.” Arya sounded tired, like she had been saying this her entire life. “He doesn’t want me. He likes me as a friend. He’s just stupid.”

“Are you really still lying to yourself about that?”

Arya looked stricken. At least she was feeling something.

“He always wants you,” Sansa said. “Even when he was only Jon’s friend.”

Arya bit her lip.

Sansa nudged her. “Are you still lying to yourself about that?”

Arya turned herself away. Sansa knew it was just hormones, but hugged her anyway. She waited for Arya to push her off.

“Then why did he leave me?” Arya asked. “Why did he just leave?”

“Because he had to,” Sansa said. “That doesn’t mean you had to leave his best friend. It wasn’t about you. He just had to.”

“That’s not what happened.”

“What happened?” Sansa asked gently.

“Gendry was… inconsolable.”

“About this?”

There was only one _this_.

“About Jon,” Arya said. “I think I pretended to leave him first. But it was him." 

“How is that possible?" 

“He kept me from running,” Arya said. “Jon was gone the next morning. I didn’t care where I was going. But he held me down. And he held me there. But aft it was over he said we couldn’t be friends anymore.”

“He didn’t.” Sansa didn’t believe it.

“He has this thing,” Arya said. “He’s poor. I’m rich. That’s it.”

“And now?” Sansa asked. “Clearly things are different now.”

“I didn’t think he would come for me that night,” Arya said. _That night_. “But you called him and he came.”

“The two of you have the thickest skulls I have ever seen,” Sansa scoffed. “Both of you think it’s this impossible thing, but it’s not. Jon left. And it had nothing to do with either of you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“So you punish yourselves,” Sansa said, ignoring Arya. “You punish yourselves because you think you have to. You know why Gendry says those things.”

“No,” Arya said honestly.

Sansa sighed indulgently, as though once again she had to instruct a child.

“What does that mean?” Arya snapped.

“He thinks he’s not good enough for you,” Sansa said. “Just like your delusion about Jon. He thinks you’re going to go and marry Aegon or something and he’ll be left to watch it happen.” 

“He’s an idiot,” Arya said. 

“And so are you,” Sansa said, smiling. “Can you really blame him?”

“I always told him that wouldn’t happen.”

“Even while you were convincing yourself there was nothing going on with you two?” Sansa asked. Arya didn’t bother answering. “He can’t help it. He didn’t have an upbringing like us. He thought he was doing the right thing.”

“Well then he had sex with me. Talk about having mixed signals.”

“Please,” Sansa laughed. “You had sex with him. Like he even stood a chance.”

“I didn’t _force_ him.”

Sansa couldn’t suppress her smile.

“ _What_?” Arya asked, irritated.

“You’re right,” Sansa said. “There was nothing that happened that he hadn’t already thought of before when he wasn’t trying to be noble.”

“He’s my friend.” Present tense. 

“I’m sure friends get friends pregnant,” Sansa said. “You were both sad and he’s still in love with you. Of course he couldn’t resist you.”

“Gendry is not in love with me.” 

People had to stop saying that.

“Oh yes he is.” 

“Shut up.”

But finally Sansa got a smile out of her sister.

“He’s here for you now, isn’t he?” Sansa asked. “He better be.” 

“He’s here for me now,” Arya said. “No matter how many times I tell him he doesn’t need to be.”

“You must have really impressed him the night of conception.”

Arya made a sound of disgust. “Don’t use that word. You might as well say ‘lie back and think of England.’” 

“Either way,” Sansa said. “You know how hard you are to refuse. He can never tell you no,” Sansa said. “Isn’t the something?” 

“I don’t know what something is,” Arya said. “He told me no when Jon left, didn’t he?”

“Not when it counted,” Sansa said. “I can’t think of anyone least likely to enact nobility than you two.”

“I don’t feel very noble right now.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Sansa said. “No matter who says that to you. And if they do, come and get me.”

“What are you going to do, beat them up?” Arya smirked.

“You don’t know my hidden talents.” 

Arya smiled weakly.

“And mine?” Arya asked. “No one ever accused me of being a seductress before.”

“Not just anyone,” Sansa said. “He can’t let go of you now.”


	14. No. 13 Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry started forward. “Let me help carry your—“
> 
> Arya flinched away from him as though she were burned. “I’m not some school girl that needs you to carry me.”
> 
> Gendry's arms dropped ot his sides. “Well you let me take your virginity.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, remember this story? I really owe everyone an apology who is still reading this story. I said I would have it done by now and I haven't even worked on it. But in truth, I haven't been writing anything lately. I'm getting back into GoT now so hopefully I can just bang this out. It is my sole mission not to leave anyone hanging and to finish this. Also this is not edited in any way. You have been warned.

_Spring_

Willow Heddle was very pretty. Willow Heddle was slight and slim. She was sharp. And above all else, she wasn’t pregnant. Arya had never been more aware of this as she walked down the hall that day. She hadn’t seen Gendry since nights before. And as stupid as he was, he wasn’t deaf. More and more she found herself listening to Sansa’s advice.

These convoys together took place when Sansa continued to skip her art classes during Arya’s lunch period. Arya had never been very graceful, but it didn’t help that the entire student body was watching her as she collapsed ungracefully into her chair.

Sansa sat daintily across from her and for the thousandth time that day, Arya felt angry.

“You actually got up the steps to Gendry’s apartment like that?” The tone Sansa was taking with her was reminiscent of what Arya liked to refer to as The Time Before the Camaro Fiasco. But she knew it was purposeful in any case. Ever since it became apparent that Arya had rushed to Gendry at the first sign of doubt, Sansa had been trying to wheedle the events of that night out of her little sister.

The more Arya resisted the more it seemed like something had happened – something other than just the civilized conversation that the two of them were known for.

Sansa clearly didn’t believe her, though Arya was adamant that nothing else really could have happened. She was already pregnant.

Today was the day. Arya could feel it in her bones. Sansa kept giving her pointed looks and ignoring Margaery Tyrell completely. Something was amiss. Though Arya was thoroughly impressed with Sansa’s resistance to all consequences. She had always been like that and even Margaery Tyrell wasn’t about to bring her down. Arya envied it in a way, but then again, she had never been very surefooted to begin with.

“Can you stop with the look?”

Sansa had just picked up her carrot sticks and was chewing with her mouth closed. “What look?”

Arya glowered.

“Have you seen Gendry recently?”

The question caught Arya off guard. Already Catelyn had been sewing spandex into the front of her jeans. Arya refused any maternity stores that were too cutesy. Apparently that was all of them. She didn’t say as much to her mother. She knew that would earn her a well-deserved lecture on comeuppance. Like she didn’t know that already.

“Why?” Arya asked suspiciously.

“Just asking.”

Sansa was never the type of person to just ask anything. Arya was suddenly heavily reminded of Cersei Baratheon’s sparkling china and flawless tiled bathroom floors.

Arya stared at Sansa. The minutes stretched on at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“Just asking,” Sansa finally continued conversationally, “because I don’t know if I saw him more recently than you have.”

“So?” Arya didn’t know why her sister should be seeing Gendry at all.

Sansa smiled tightly at Arya’s snap.

“So you haven’t seen him since—“

“Since when?”

“Since he asked Willow Heddle to prom.”

Arya hated Willow Heddle. She was small and slight and not pregnant.

But everyone knew that. Everyone in that lunchroom knew that from just one glance at Arya. The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“That’s just stupid.”

“Naturally,” Sansa replied with ease. It wasn’t anything more than she had been expecting.

Arya felt her sister’s eyes however, and knew that Sansa was waiting for a reaction. Stupid once again came to mind, but clearly wasn’t what her older sister was looking for.

“Prom? Willow?” Two things that don’t make sense to her. “Gendry would never go to prom.”

“He would with you.”

“And I would never go to prom so Gendry would never go to prom. Besides, he doesn’t care about Willow. He said so.”

“Prom is a small price to pay for sex.”

“They’re not having sex. She looks like she’s twelve.”

“And how tall are you?”

“Shut up.”

“You’re like half his height.”

Arya's answer was to glower.

“You know she kind of looks like you.”

“Thanks,” Arya snapped.

“Same hair. Small—“

“What are you saying?”

Sansa shrugs. “So you care?”

“He’s my best friend, of course I care.”

“He was. You care that he’s dating a replacement you.”

“He’s not dating anyone. Gendry doesn’t date. And she’s not my replacement.”

“No, he just screws around.”

“Sansa." 

“You’re pregnant.”

“He can fuck whoever he wants.”

“Yeah, let’s hope he doesn’t knock her up either.”

Arya swallowed that down. “Apparently that was all my fault so I’m sure he won’t.”

“Gendry’s had sex before. He took advantage of you, took your virginity, and knocked you up.”

“I took advantage of him and you know it.”

“Let’s hope Willow doesn’t take advantage of him, then, either." 

“Gendry doesn’t sleep around,” Arya said quietly.

“You’re exhibit A that he does.”

“Not with Willow Heddle he doesn’t!”

Sansa raises her eyebrows. Arya could feel her sister's look and couldn't meet her eyes. She was prone to outbursts but this was something of another kind.

“Don’t say it.”

“You’re jealous.”

* * *

 

Even know, Arya was always silent as a cat. Or a wolverine. She used to say things like that, most of which he never understood.

Now it was a different story. Now the crowd parted for her like the Red Sea, even when it was clear to him that she didn't want it.

He let her slam his locker closed. Whenever she got like that, he found it more beneficial to just take it.

“You’re going to prom. With Willow Heddle.”

Gendry stood there, stunned. Prom was never a subject he had ever considered discussing with Arya. After her outburst, everyone went on to walk to their classes or retrieve their books. She had him cornered. She didn't need to be as silent as a wolverine or whatever to do that.

Arya was still staring at him expectantly. There was no getting out of this one.

“It just seemed…” Gendry trailed off.

She never let him finish. “Prom.”

“Tom and Anguy and the others were going to check it out,” Gendry shrugged, spinning the dial on his locker to open it again.

“Check it out?" Arya tasted the words in her mouth with clear disgust. "You don’t check out prom.”

“It just happened.”

“Great," Arya sneered. "It just happened."

Gendry creaked open his locker, steeling himself for what was about to come.

"And I’m just your cast off who everyone talks about even more than they already would," Arya said bitingly. "Glad I’m not weighing you down because going to prom with you is probably the worst decision I would make and that’s including letting you knock me up.”

Gendry still couldn't look at her. He just stared at the inside of his sparse locker for a moment. There was a picture of his Camaro pasted on the inside. He wondered why it was still there.

“Let you –" Gendry finally whirled around at her with confusion. "Why are you acting like this?”

“Why are you?" Arya asked. "You hate those things. You hate limousines and you hate dances and you hate rich people’s cabins.”

“Yeah, I do," Gendry said coolly. "So why do I hang you with you?”

The only reaction she gave him was a rapid blink. But it still snapped through him like a whip.

“I don’t know," Arya said. "Because you stopped. Whatever offensive thing I did to make you hate me - or maybe you just didn’t want Jon’s little sister tagging along after you after he left - you rejected me. So you shouldn’t want any of that, would you? And neither should your stupid band of brothers.”

“Did you ever stop to think that you’re not the only one who broke?” Gendry asked.

Arya didn't hear him. She never did. “I’ll send Jon my condolences.”

“Not because of him, because of you!” Gendry said, stopping her from storming off.

“Me?" Arya asked. "I was always your friend, but you cast me off.”

“Because I couldn’t watch you do it to me first!”

Arya's eyes narrowed in confusion. “I would never do that.”

“You say that now.”

“You’re an idiot.”

What else was new?

“Because you’re a Stark," Gendry clarified. He always had to clarify the obvious. "And you were always better than me and I couldn’t stand knowing that fact and needing you. I’m a waste of your time.”

“If you needed me you wouldn’t have—“

“Slept with you?” Gendry raised his eyebrows.

“I slept with you," Arya muttered. "It wasn’t your idea.”

“It doesn’t mean I didn’t want it.”

Arya glared at her shoes. “I’m not going to apologize for sleeping with you and not wanting to marry you. That was never me. I hate that. I thought you did too.”

“Yeah, all I hear about is how you never want to get married or be tied down.” Gendry couldn't keep the bitterness from seeping into his voice.

“I thought we agreed about that.”

Gendry couldn't stop himself. “Looks like you’re tied down now. There were two of us that night. I tried pushing you away to stop it, but you broke my heart anyway.”

“There were two of us there. I guess two of us made a mistake.”

“You think it was a mistake?” Gendry asked.

“Look at me!" Arya burst out. "You’re taking some freshman to prom and I’m so abhorrent even you can’t look at me anymore.”

“That isn’t true.”

“I’m sure you and Willow will have a lovely time. Make sure you use protection. Wouldn't want to make the same mistake twice.”

“I’ve been with others before you, you know," Gendry said sourly. He hated himself but whispered the next part anyway. "But it’s only ever been you.”

“Stop talking about things you don’t understand."

"What about what you understand?" Gendry said. He knew that she didn't.

"She’s prettier than me anyway," Arya said, ignoring him. "And not huge.”

“Her eyes are wrong," Gendry said.

Arya frowned.

"She's not you.”

“Then maybe you won’t make the same mistake as you did with me.” Arya would never let him have the moment.

Without another word, she heft her bag over her shoulder. Her sweater stretched over her stomach. He rememebered when Jon bought it for her. He insisted that his sister would grow into it, even though it was five sizes too large.

Gendry started forward. “Let me help carry your—“

Arya flinched away from him as though she were burned. “I’m not some school girl that needs you to carry me.”

Gendry's arms dropped ot his sides. “Well you let me take your virginity.”

Arya never looked back at him.

* * *

No one would miss the pregnant girl heading out the front door and ditching school. But no one really made a move to stop her either.

Only Sansa.

"Don't go." 

Her sister couldn't look her in the face.

"You were right." Arya spun out the double doors. The sound of her car screeched as she peeled out of the parkinglot. Sansa stood, watching her little pregnant sister drive right out of school.

Sansa found Gendry relatively quickly. He spent his time in the autoshop room for most of the day.

Gendry was wearing a wife beater, his beaten leather jacket on a chair. He didn't look up at her as she entered the room. She was sure that she looked pretty out of place. She smoothed down her skirt. 

“It’s not a secret that I don’t approve of this situation."

Gendry was listening. She could tell.

"But she’s happy when she’s with you and she’s sad when she’s not. It’s that simple. You’re not fooling anyone with Willow. Arya’s just too dense to see it.”

Gendry rubbed the grease from his hands.

“Her eyes are wrong.”

Sansa smiled. “Her eyes are wrong.”

Gendry shrugged his jacket on.

"So start acting like it," Sansa said brusquely. "She's difficult but she deserves better." 

“You deserve better." Gendry made eye contact with her for the first time. The first time she wished that she could hide herself away. No one talked about it and she didn't want that to change now. "Arya was always upset about the state of your relationship. But she would have kicked that guy’s teeth in for you.”

"Why are you telling me that?" Sansa asked.

"You're lucky to have her."


	15. Karma Police

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m leaving Cersei.”
> 
> Arya was frozen where she sat. No matter how close he was or how uncomfortable she had been moments ago, now she was feeling a new distinct feeling altogether. She felt like Jon was leaving again without a word and she was looking at her pregnancy test and Willow Heddle was staring at her again all at once.
> 
> “What?”
> 
> Gendry’s motorcycle had roared up next to car just to save her despite everything else she had done.
> 
> And now she was all-alone with this – heartbreak. This betrayal.
> 
> Robert wasn’t looking at her anymore and she could be spared from Gendry’s gaze. 
> 
> “I don’t think I’m ready to be a father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm getting back into the swing of things… somewhat. I really am trying, guys. Thank you so much to everyone still reading and those who sent lovely messages. I say this frequently, but it does mean a lot to me. Game of Thrones will be back in a couple months so all the more motivation!

Arya had screeched in front of the garage and slammed the door behind before it was clear that she never should have left school. Everything was always a whirl of anger for her – especially for the past months – and logic only came to her after the fact.

Robert Baratheon was sitting on the couch gazing at her calmly as she dropped her bag to the floor. She stopped short at the sight of him, speechless.

“Aren’t you home a little early?”

Arya bit her lip, and the retort she had to go along with it. _Are you my father?_

The sarcasm only gave her a slightly smaller desire to throw herself in the frozen river.

“I’m taking a mental health day,” Arya said instead.  But she dared not step forward towards the couch. Whatever this was, she didn’t like it. Robert chuckled and she resisted the urge to step back towards the door.

“I won’t tell your father.”

Arya never asked him to but it didn’t lessen her ease.

“Is he here?” Arya asked.

“I would ask you the same question,” Robert answered. “I wanted to speak to him.”

“He doesn’t get off work until six.”

Robert, the supposed adult who would take care of her unborn child should have known that, she would think. But as Bran liked to point out, mature thinking wasn’t her strong suit.

“I suppose he isn’t home,” Robert said.

 _Obviously_.

“He won’t be home for awhile.” She really wanted to sit down but he was annoyingly still on the couch.

“So then what brings you home at this hour?” It didn’t seem as though he would be moving any time soon.

“Mental health day,” Arya repeated, determinedly. His smile suggested that he didn’t believe her. She didn’t blame him.

“In my day, that meant something very different.”

Arya knew what His Day entailed, but weed and cranking up Blue Oyster Cult wasn’t really her thing. He should have remembered that it wasn’t her father’s either.

“Pregnant,” Arya said, almost cringing at the obviousness. “Only mental health for me.”

Robert raised his eyebrows at her.

Arya shrugged. “It’s stupid.”

“Tell me about it.”

It didn’t sound like he was giving her much of a choice.

But Arya shook her head. “Jon would laugh at how stupid I sound.”

Robert patted the spot next to him on the couch. Arya’s stomach rolled. “Your bother isn’t here.”

She didn't need to be reminded of that. Especially at this very moment. Reluctantly, Arya made her way over to the couch. Her bag was far away by the door. It made her feel exposed. She let a cushion separate her and her father’s best friend.

“The father is going to prom with… some girl,” Arya mumbled. It sounded even stupider out loud.

“You mean…” Robert’s blue eyes were on her stomach. _The father_.  Arya shrugged indifferently. “I went to my prom with your aunt Lyanna.” 

That wasn’t the response she was expecting. She supposed a lot of people had blue eyes. Robert’s were making her uncomfortable.

“Oh?” It was the only thing Arya could think of to say.

“You know you look just like her.”

And her stomach dropped. For the first time, she stared directly into Robert’s eyes and she felt a wave of nausea. She had been blind not to see it before.

“My father always said Lyanna was beautiful,” Arya said slowly, watching how Robert would answer the question.

“She was,” Robert said, never breaking contact. “You look so alike.”

And Arya knew why Robert looked so familiar to her when she had only seen him twice in her lifetime before she was knocked up.

She wanted to fade away. She wanted to scream and cry and kick him out of her house. But she was stuck in this small talk with nowhere to run. She never did well with being trapped.

“Why don’t you go to the dance?” Robert asked. “I’m sure lots of boys would be lining up to take you.”

It was almost enough to make Arya forget everything and roll her eyes. He sounded alarmingly like her mother, now. Up until that point, Catelyn’s encouragement always sounded like pity and white lies.

Now she wished she could escape the glaring eyes that had found her in the club and the back of that Camaro that night.

“I didn't want to go with _him_ ,” Arya said bluntly. “I just didn't want to go at all. Dances are stupid. Girls like Sansa go to those. I thought he agreed with me.”

Definitely stupid.

Before he could respond, Arya changed the subject. “Why are you here anyway?" 

Somehow, there wasn’t a cushion between them any longer.

“I came to tell Ned something.”

She didn’t like how she could feel his breath on her cheek.

“Yeah, but what?” Arya asked. Anything but the topic they were just discussing. And she had always been good at finding her way into topics where she didn’t belong.

For the first time, Robert looked as though he doubted himself. He was silent for a long while, weighing the words.

“It doesn’t really matter—“ Arya finally said.

“I’m leaving Cersei.”

Arya was frozen where she sat. No matter how close he was or how uncomfortable she had been moments ago, now she was feeling a new distinct feeling altogether. She felt like Jon was leaving again without a word and she was looking at her pregnancy test and Willow Heddle was staring at her again all at once.

“ _What_?”

Gendry’s motorcycle had roared up next to car just to save her despite everything else she had done.

And now she was all-alone with this – heartbreak. This betrayal.

Robert wasn’t looking at her anymore and she could be spared from Gendry’s gaze. 

“I don’t think I’m ready to be a father.”

He wasn’t ready to be a father. And he never had been before. Maybe he never would be. And Gendry’s mother and Gendry’s life and Gendry’s brokenness all made sense that she felt like screaming again.

“You’re old,” Arya realized. Old. Old enough to have an eighteen-year-old son. An eighteen-year-old son that never knew he even existed.

Robert looked offended.

“I’m not…” Robert struggled.

Arya jumped from the couch. 

“You’re old,” she accused. “You’re my father’s friend. And you’re supposed to take care of this.”

 _This_.

Everything that she would never be able to. She wasn’t even old enough to drink legally and he was playing this part of a high schooler like he hadn’t had twenty years to grow up.

Like her aunt wasn’t did.

Robert smiled. “You’re fiery. Like she was.”

“Oh, my god.” And the tears came.

She was bent over the couch, heart beating wildly and pain in her stomach when her father came through the door. Robert was still sitting down and Arya wanted to throw up.

“Oh, my god,” Arya said again. Her father hugged her, never needing words to understand.

Her father’s companion was a different story. Arya had never met Jaime Lannister before, but the prospective uncle to her unborn kid leaned against the wall his arms crossed casually. She didn't need introductions. 

Arya could only think of how much he looked like Cersei.

“Well this is surprising,” Jaime drawled. He didn’t sound surprised at all.

Her father’s strong arms were still wrapped around her. “Jaime, go outside and—“

“Here we are,” Jaime continued in the room, ignoring Ned, “looking for the absent husband of my dear sister, and you’ve been here all this time. Well, let me just state the obvious. History does seem to repeat itself. Doesn’t it?”

A thousand scenarios could have run through Arya’s head at that moment, but all she could think of was how glad she was that her father was there.

Silence filled the room as Jaime scrolled deliberately through his phone.

“What are you doing?” Robert asked. It was the first time she had ever heard the man sound near to being authoritative.

“I’m calling Cersei.” Jaime didn’t even look up from his phone.

Arya didn’t think that could have been more obvious.

“Jaime-“

Jaime looked up to his brother-in-law. The mirth never left his eyes.

“You were just found alone with a teenage pregnant girl,” Jaime said. “You think I’m not going to call my sister?”

Feebly, Robert said nothing. He sat back in the couch and waited. They waited for the storm and as it turned out, it only took Cersei one look at Arya to understand.

“What did you do?” she said coldly with no preamble. She didn't even cast one glance at her brother melting in the shadows. And Arya knew there was no reason to cower before the woman in this moment. Not for her, in any case.

Robert was still on the couch. “She’s just hormonal.”

"You disgusting, lech," Cersei spat.

Ned’s grip tightened on his daughter’s shoulder. The one and only time he stood up to his friend. “I think you should leave.”

Cersei registered this change. She leveled Ned with her eyes. It would be the only time that Cersei Baratheon and Ned Stark would ever have the same understanding of anything.

“What’s going on?” She turned back to her husbamd, her voice level and deadly. Jaime still had a smirk on his face.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to do this,” Robert said.

Ned’s hand fell from Arya’s shoulder. She took a determined step forward.

“Of course you’re not ready.” Her voice was finally steady. “You abandon every bastard you father. How could you be ready for this one?”

There was no hatred in Cersei’s eyes when she looked at Arya. She absorbed the blow and nodded.

Confirmation, as if Arya even needed it.

“You’re old and you’re drunk and you’re a horrible father.”

The door front door slammed behind her.

It only took two seconds after Arya left for the yelling to start.

And it didn't stop.

They were still yelling. It should have come as a shock to Ned that the married couple were still yelling in a house that was not their own. But these were the Baratheons. And his wife had been right all along, as she so often was. This had been a train wreck from the start.

Catelyn was always right.

“What do you want, Robert?” Cersei asked furiously. “You’re never going to have her back. You’re never going to be strong and handsome like you were.”

More salt to the wound and Robert still couldn’t look at his wife.

“She’s _dead_. I’m here. And you’re wasting away.” It would have been a mercy had Cersei’s last words been gentle. But her soft tone never implied gentility. “You’re never going to get it back.”

Jaime was inspecting his nails casually. Throughout all the chaos, Ned still didn’t have it in him to throw his best friend out. Not this way. And while everything was still unresolved.

“You always knew I would be a bad father.” Robert said it more to himself than to anyone else. Small consolation.

Ned never missed the measured look Cersei shared with her brother for a second. 

“Yes, well,” Cersei said delicately. “I never said I needed you for this anyway.”

* * *

 

Arya had never left the driveway. She would have preferred not to be there when the Baratheons took their leave but as of yet, everyone was still in the house. And in any case, she was in no state to drive.

The front door opened and she watched him walk down the driveway. She unlocked the car door.

The passenger door opened. “I came to give you this.”

Arya took her bag thankfully from Ned. Her father’s hand stroked the hair at the back of her head and they didn’t need to say anything for a long while.

Finally Arya took a deep breath. “He’s Gendry’s father, isn’t he?”

Her father had that look that he got when he looked at her sometimes. That sad look like she knew more than she ought to. Than any child of his should. “Yes. He is.”

Anger flared up within her.

It was better than the feeling of betrayal.

“It isn’t fair,” Arya said. “None of this is fair.”

“I’m sorry,” Ned said, "for thinking this could work. I was an old fool.”

Arya clung to her father. It was the only solace she could give him.

“How could this happen?” Arya felt hysteria bubbling up inside her. Everything was too complicated and too neat. “Robert is Gendry’s father. And then he abandons Gendry’s child like he did to Gendry. I don’t understand.”

She let herself sink into her father’s arms once again.

“None of us do, child.”


	16. Edge of Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t want him to have it,” Arya said a little more vehemently than was necessary. “I want you to raise this baby. He doesn’t deserve to touch any part of it. He can’t have this child when Gendry grew up without anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm sorry I haven't been updating. That said, Game of Thrones is back! And I am feeling more inspired to write. This story is almost finished so I hope you stick around until the end.

When it came to a divorce settlement, it was pretty clear which way the tides would turn. Robert had already found a small apartment downtown and Cersei was overseeing his departure over a glass of red wine.

Jaime found that amusing. Jaime found everything amusing. Cersei was sure that was his main motivation to watch Robert move out. He never seemed concerned with her opinion on the matter. He never seemed to notice the trend of the most amusing moments seemed to be out of her favor when her life was falling apart.

The wine was helping. And the fact that Robert had never thought to draw up a pre-nup. His misgivings with the late Stark Girl were just replaced with the current pregnant Stark Girl and she had enough.

Robert had the decency not to say anything as he moved his boxes to the Jaguar. Probably the only thing of value he would be keeping.

“That doesn’t look like it belongs on this street." 

For a moment, Cersei thought Jaime was referring to Robert just in the general way that he usually did. When she looked over, however, her brother was peering through the curtains. She didn’t have to wonder whose beat up sedan was left running around the corner.

Arya could almost see from her vantage point outside. Robert’s car was also running and she was only waiting for the opportune moment to avoid him. It was around twenty-five minutes before Robert had finished packing his car and veered out of the driveway, completely unaware of the teenage girl in the parked car.

It was a struggle to get up to the door. At about nine months, she was ready to pop. Her mother always chastised her that stress would lead to an early labor. Arya couldn’t think of anything more stressful than this. But time was ticking away, and there was nothing else to do.

Cersei opened the door swiftly when Arya knocked, wine glass in her hand. 

“Arya,” she said politely. Cersei looked over her shoulder and Arya realized she wasn’t alone.

“Well invite the girl in,” a voice came from behind the door. Arya had no intention of doing this in front of Jaime Lannsiter. But time was of the essence. “She’s nine months pregnant on your doorstep. Do you want her to have it right here?” 

Cersei eased the door open to accommodate Arya’s weight before throwing a measured glare at her brother.

Jaime was propped against the bannister and took the sight of Arya in. “She really does look like Lyanna. Talk about conflict of interest.”

“Don’t be indelicate,” Cersei said sharply.

Jaime just looked at her doubtfully.

“I’ll talk to Arya alone." 

Arya looked between the two in surprise. She didn’t expect for Cersei to separate herself from her brother.

“ _Now_.”

Jaime shrugged and walked into the other room.

“As you can see, now isn’t the best time.” Cersei’s voice was lighter, but Arya could still sense and edge to it.

“I just wanted to say one thing,” Arya said.

Cersei looked at her expectantly. “Well?" 

“I still have to do this,” Arya said quickly. “I can’t… I can’t do this by myself. I still want you to adopt.”

“Even after everything that’s just happened?” Cersei asked

“I don’t want him to have it,” Arya said a little more vehemently than was necessary. “I want you to raise this baby. He doesn’t deserve to touch any part of it. He can’t have this child when Gendry grew up without anything.” 

Arya couldn’t even speak Robert’s name out loud. And to Cersei's credit, she didn't ask who Gendry was. She was probably already aware of the circumstances.

“You aren’t like you’re aunt,” Cersei said. “You’re fierce. Admirable.”

“Thanks,” Arya said hastily, needing to get to the point. “Does that mean okay?” 

“Okay?” Cersei asked.

“Will you still adopt her?”

Arya was shocked by Cersei’s sudden smile.

“It’s a her?”

Arya was sure that was the right thing to say. But suddenly, she was sure that it was also the truth.

“I think so,” Arya said. “It feels like it is.”

“I trust a mother’s intuition,” Cersei said. “I think this arrangement can still work.”

Arya breathed a sigh of relief. “Will you be okay?”

Cersei looked over her shoulder. Jaime was in the doorway of the kitchen, watching them. “I have my brother.”

* * *

 

When Arya got home, her father was waiting for her. She never liked accepting help from anyone, but she could accept it this time. She was relieved that her father helped her out of the car and into the house.

“Your mother warned me,” Ned admitted. “How badly this could go.”

Arya sat gingerly at the kitchen table.

“I think we can allow her that much.”

Ned smiled faintly. “Where were you?”

“Your friend is a bafoon,” Arya said as an answer.

She wasn’t sure if her father could sigh any more times than he had. He was tired. Lines crowded around his eyes and he rubbed his temples. She knew that had a lot to do with her. She couldn’t imagine the strain she had put on the family – and that this was the first time that it was occurring to her. 

“I know.”

“Cersei will love her child,” Arya said, hoping it was encouragement. “I know that.”

Ned nodded. It seemed like they had finally come to an agreement.

“Gendry deserves better,” Arya added beneath her breath.

“Are you going to tell him?” Ned asked.

“Gendry is a good person.” Arya let herself smile. “A good man. He’ll be better than his father ever was or ever could be. I won’t let him be poisoned. I can’t.” 

“Are you dating him?” Ned asked pointedly.

Arya couldn’t look at her father. She couldn’t say much of anything, only shrug. The fact was, she really hadn’t thought about it herself. She hadn’t figured out if it was something that she wanted for herself. Especially after all the baggage between them, it seemed like too much. 

“Dating the way you are—“ Ned started. 

“I’m not dating, Dad,” Arya said clearly. “I don’t date.”

“You love him,” Ned said knowingly.

Without thinking, Arya leaned towards her father and hugged him as hard as she was allowed in her current condition. “I think I ruined it.”

Ned returned her embrace warmly.

“He loves you.” Her father didn’t seem particularly thrilled to admit that. “I see that. And he’s right. He thinks you’re perfect no matter what you do.”

No matter what she put him through.

“And he’s right,” Ned added. 

“I never thought I’d lose Jon too,” Arya said.

“You haven’t lost him.” Ned was finally addressing her brother after almost a year of him gone. “We haven’t lost him.”

“He’s never coming back,” Arya said. “There’s no reason for him to.”

But Ned smiled and Arya had a feeling that everything was going to be okay.

“I know our family isn’t exactly traditional in that sense,” Ned answered. “But he does have a reason to come back. You.”


	17. Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Aren’t we supposed to call the ambulance or—“
> 
> “There’s no time to call the ambulance! We’re in the car already, just drive faster.”
> 
> “Mom will kill you if you give birth in this car. Aren’t you supposed to have contractions before your water breaks?”
> 
> “I don’t know what to tell you, Sansa! It just happened!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So stuff happens in this chapter (finally.) A lot of stuff. You have been warned. I'm traveling in the next few days so I'm updating now. There are really only a few more chapters and this fic is donzo.

“How long have you been sitting there?” 

Arya looked up at Sansa in the doorway of her room. She was sitting at her drumkit. Sansa knew how long it had been since Arya had even touched her drumsticks. The household thanked her, but that didn’t mean it was natural.

Bran had told her that as much. But their parents had taken him to the hospital again and Sansa and Arya were alone in the house.

“You know, I would get up if I were able to,” Arya said. Her stomach was stretching her Stooges shirt for all it was worth at this point.

Sansa walked into the room. “Do you need help?”

Arya shook her head. “I think I’ll just sit for awhile.” 

Sansa nodded. 

“Do you want to play something?”

“Nothing you would thank me for.” But Arya still smiled. The house was quiet for the first time.

“This is the right decision,” Sansa said. “You know that, right?” They weren't talking about drumming anymore.

“I know it is,” Arya said.

“Then what is it?”

Arya had been moody for days. Though that in itself wasn't so strange. The real problem was something that Arya couldn’t name. In this rare moment of tranquility, she wasn’t about to bring it up.

“Do you want to watch one of those horrible romantic comedies you like?” Arya asked. For some reason, it seemed like the end of something. This was the last time she could really let Sansa annoy her.

“Arya.”

“I want to,” she assured her sister.

Sansa allowed herself to smile. “Alright. You know _27 Dresses_ is actually really—“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Arya laughed.

“I’ll go set it up.” Sansa was cheerful and Arya smiled at her encouragingly. She hadn’t asked Sansa to help her up so it would take a good five minutes for her to be able to get down the stairs. 

Her drumsticks leaned against the bass drum on the floor. Arya gazed at them for a moment. Suddenly, it seemed of dire importance to pick them up. She couldn’t leave this room without doing it. 

With much effort and groaning, Arya supported her weight while trying to reach the ground.

But the time her fingers wrapped around the sticks, she was breathing heavily with exertion. She held them tightly in her hand, smiling triumphantly. She brought the stick down on the drum with a loud sound.

The sticks clattered to the floor.

Arya held her hand to her stomach. 

Something had _popped_.

“ _Shit_ ,” Arya swore. 

“ _Arya_?” Sansa’s voice called from downstairs. “ _Is everything alright_?”

Arya lurched to her feet with as much momentum as she could. “Yeah, everything’s—“

Another wave of pain crashed over her and she had to lean on her dresser for support.

And then everything was wet.

Arya looked down at her Doc Martins and saw that they were drenched. 

She began yelling in earnest then until Sansa crashed through her door.

“Are you—“

Sansa stared at the floor beneath Arya.

“Oh, my god.”

* * *

 

“Aren’t we supposed to call the ambulance or—“

“There’s no time to call the ambulance! We’re in the car already, just drive faster.”

“Mom will kill you if you give birth in this car. Aren’t you supposed to have contractions before your water breaks?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Sansa! It just happened!" 

“Well did you do something…”

“Are we really having this conversation?” 

“I’m just wondering.”

“It’s coming _please_ drive to the fucking hospital.”

“The baby can hear that when you do that.”

“Just drive.”

Sansa was half supporting her sister when they got to the front desk. The receptionist smiled politely. “What seems to be the—“ 

“Pregnant,” Arya said gruffly. “In labor. Now.”

They deposited Arya into a wheelchair and as they wheeled Arya to her room, Sansa jogged to keep up.

“I wonder if we’ll see Bran.”

“You didn’t call Mom or Dad?” Arya said through gritted teeth. She was heaving by now.

“I was a little busy getting you to the hospital.”

“Well I’m a little busy having a baby,” Arya retorted.

Sansa turned to the nurse. “I think we’ll take that epidural now.”

The nurse nodded and vacated the room.

“While we’re on the subject, is there anyone else you want to call?”

“Angry Mom. Check. Worried Dad. Check. I think you’re good.”

“No one else?” Sansa pressed.

“What are you saying?” Arya asked.

“I don’t know,” Sansa said. “Maybe the father of the baby or something.”

Arya conjured the vision of Robert or even Jaime Lannister in her mind. Father's that should be there for their children. But their faces all morphed into Gendry’s.

“No.”

“No?” Sansa asked in shock. “Arya-“ 

“I said no,” Arya said. “I have enough to deal with right now. So just get the shot thing okay? And call Mom and Dad.”

Arya grimaced as another wave of pain hit her.

“Okay,” Sansa assured her. “Okay. I’ll be right outside and be back when I’m done.”

“Okay, _Mom_ ,” Arya said viciously.

Given the circumstances, Sansa would allow her that one. She went out into the hallway and closed Arya’s door quietly behind her. She dialed the number she had gotten from Jon’s things.

“ _Hello_?” asked a muffled voice from the other thing.

“Hi,” Sansa said. “It’s me.”

“ _Yeah_?”

“It’s happening.”

“ _What’s happening_?” Gendry asked.

“Would you just get to the hospital right now?” Sansa asked. “Arya’s in labor.”

“ _What_?”

Arya said he was dense.

“They’re giving her drugs so she probably won’t be that mad,” Sansa said. “Please, just get here. She’ll regret it if you don’t.”

_“I’m getting on my bike now.”_

Sure enough there was a deafening rumble before the line went dead. Sansa walked briskly back to the receptionist.

“Can you tell me where Brandon Stark is, please? I’m his sister.”

* * *

 

For the next eighteen hours, Arya was in a haze. She was sure that she had seen the faces of her parents and even Bran, supported by a wheelchair.

She knew that she was truly dreaming when she saw her brother Jon. He smiled and held her hand while she felt paralyzed.

She was absolutely sure it was a dream when her brother turned into Gendry. He stroked back her hair. For a moment she thought maybe it wasn't a hallucination. Her forehead was sticky like this was reality. 

But Gendry went to go sit down in the chair next to her bed and took out his guitar. That was when she decided that she must be unconscious.

He strummed quietly, his voice a soft hum beneath the notes. She recognized the melody but when she opened her eyes again, it was forgotten. And so was he.

“Hey, little sister.” 

Arya thought for a second that she was still asleep.

But there he was.

Jon smiled at her and sat next to her bed. She was still so full of painkillers that she began to cry. That must have been it. She wouldn’t have done it on any other day.

“I would punch you if I wasn’t so exhausted,” Arya said in a thick voice. Jon leaned over and hugged her tightly. She gripped back as hard as she could. She cried some more but Jon had the decency to ignore it. Like he knew she wanted.

“I got leave,” Jon said. “Apparently my little sister got knocked up.”

“And you’re just getting here now?” She couldn’t help but be petulant. “That’s what you get.”

“It’s the time they allowed me,” Jon said comfortingly.

Then his expression turned sour.

“I should punch _you_ ,” Jon said, mimicking her tone. “No I should punch him.” 

“You’re welcome to,” Arya laughed.

Jon’s brow furrowed. “Why? Besides the obvious.” 

Arya shrugged.

“He got you pregnant,” Jon said sternly. “The least he could do is be here.” 

“I didn’t call him,” Arya said. “He shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not?” Jon asked. “Let me reiterate. He got you _pregnant_.”

“I just don’t think it works like that,” Arya said.

“You sound too adult,” Jon said. “I don’t like it.”

“At least I’m not the one getting shot up in Afghanistan.”

“I guess we both can be a little dramatic.”

“Who’s being dramatic?”

“Arya,” Jon said gently, “things like this don’t just happen, you know? They happen because there’s something there. Because it’s supposed to. So don’t tell me it’s too hard or there’s too much baggage or whatever. You think I don’t know you care about him?” 

“So is she pretty?”

Jon looked confused again. “Who?” 

“The girl who’s turned you into such a romantic.”

Jon set his jaw, but she could tell he was trying not to smile. 

“She has red hair.”

“Ahhhh,” Arya winked. “Your weakness reveals itself.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Do I get to meet her?”

“You’re making my touch guy speech kind of impossible to give.”

“My mission in life,” Arya said. “To make your life harder.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“Do I at least get a name?”

“Tell you what,” Jon said. “You talk to me about your man, and maybe we’ll discuss the other thing.”

“I don’t have a man,” Arya said.

“So it was just immaculate conception.”

“He’s your best friend.”

“Was,” Jon said. “Before he knocked up my little sister.”

“Jon.”

“Is that really it?” Jon asked. “That’s why you don’t call the father of your kid? Because he’s my best friend?”

“It’s not right—“

“When you have unprotected sex with someone, right doesn’t enter into the equation and you know it,” Jon said. “You did it because you wanted to. And as much as it sickens me to admit this about the guy that defiled my little sister—“

“Get to the point,” Arya said dryly.

“If you want him, then you want him,” Jon finished. “And there’s nothing that should get in the way of that.”

“You wouldn’t have said this last year.”

“A lot has changed,” Jon said. “I’m sorry I didn’t contact you. There was a lot I had to figure out.”

“I get that,” Arya said. “As much as I wanted to hate you.”

“Did you really not call him?” Jon asked.

“You’re just saying that so you can give him a piece of Her Majesty’s Secret Service.”

“I know what it’s like to grow up having to assume one parent doesn’t care about you,” Jon said. Arya tensed. She hated it when her brother said things like that. She cared about him but sometimes he acted like it didn’t matter. “And I know Gendry does too. It’s only fair.”

“Gendry already knows.”

Jon and Arya looked up to see Gendry standing in the doorway.

“So don’t worry about telling him.” Gendry tried to smile but Arya could tell he was weighed down by Jon’s gaze. They shared a look for what seemed like centuries.

Before she could understand what was happening, Jon was on his feet and had slammed his fist right into Gendry’s jaw. The boy stumbled, holding onto the doorframe for a moment. 

And then like nothing had even happened, Jon offered his friend his hand. Gendry took it tentatively.

“It means a lot that you came,” Jon said.

“To be fair I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

“Neither did any of us,” Arya piped up from the bed. 

“Sorry,” Jon said to Gendry, ignoring his little sister.

“Yeah,” Gendry said. “Same.”

Jon clapped his best friend on the back.

“That’s it?” Arya asked. “After all that?”

“Whether you like to admit it or not,” Jon said, “you are a little drama queen.”

“Tell me about it.”

Jon cast an annoyed look at Gendry, but the boy was too busy gazing at Arya to notice.

“You and my little sister,” Jon said pointedly.

“I guess there’s no point in denying it when the proof is there,” Gendry said uncomfortably.

“I’ll decide whether I’ll kill you or not later." 

Arya glared at him. “You better not go running off again.”

“Not for awhile, little sister,” Jon said, sitting back down.

“Even though Mom’s here?” Arya asked.

“It doesn’t matter.”

To her credit, Catelyn gave Jon a tight smile when she visited, wheeling Bran in.

“I can’t believe you’re in here.” Bran seemed more gleeful than anything else. Arya ruffled his hair.

When Catelyn left to let Arya get some sleep, she gave Jon a pointed glare and he shuffled away too, promising to be back later. 

Only Gendry remained. Arya looked to see his guitar propped behind the chair.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Arya said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“You are?” Gendry asked.

“You’re my best friend,” Arya said. “I think Jon and I have to fight for custody of you.”

“Yeah.”

She could tell he wasn’t happy with that answer. Neither was she.

“He said something when he was in here,” Arya said. “Jon.” 

“What was it?”

“Just…” Arya didn’t know how to say it. Being honest? Telling him what she really wanted? It seemed impossible. “You brought your guitar?” 

“Yeah,” Gendry said. “I thought you might like to hear something. It’s stupid.” 

“No,” Arya said. “It’s not.”

She stretched her hand out to him. 

“Will you stay with me?” she asked. “For a little while?”

Gendry’s fingers tangled with hers. “Not something your father would be thrilled to hear about.” 

Arya shifted in the hospital bed to make room for him, pulling him along. It had never been this calm with them before.

Arya and Gendry had been a frenzy of angst and misplaced anger from the beginning. But for the first time, they just lay together.

“Did you see her?” Arya asked after awhile. 

“No,” Gendry said. “It didn’t seem…”

“Right,” Arya said. “I think so too.” 

Her black painted nails curled tightly around his.

“This is right.”

* * *

 

Arya's overnight bag was just about packed when Cersei Lannister knocked on the door and took a step inside. Arya sank back into the bed.

“I trust everything went…” Cersei said, “well?”

Arya nodded. “That’s what they tell me.”

“How are you feeling?” 

“You can see her, you know,” Arya said. It didn't seem right that Cersei Lannister was seeing her now or even speaking to her at all. “I think everything is fine and healthy. That’s what they told me.”

“It’s just a courtesy,” Cersei said.

“Right,” Arya said. “Sorry.”

She had always been bad at that.

“You haven’t seen her?” Cersei asked after a moment.

Arya shook her head slowly.

“Best not to get attached.”

“She’s yours,” Arya said. “I know that.”

Cersei smiled. An actual real smile. “So it is a she.”

Arya nodded. “My mom said she has blues eyes.”

Gendry’s eyes.

And Robert’s.

“Is that alright?” Arya asked.

“You’re right,” Cersei said. “She’s mine. Nothing else matters. I’m glad you’re doing well.”

“Thanks.”

“I actually just wanted to ask…” Cersei seemed unsure for a moment. She hesitated at the door. “Had you given any thought to what you would name her?”

“She’s your daughter,” Arya said firmly. On that front, she hadn’t made a mistake. She knew that. “It’s not my decision to make.”

“I know,” Cersei said. “But still. Any ideas?" 

Arya said the first thing that came to mind. “Patience.”

The song Gendry had played as she slept.

Cersei smiled. “How apt.”


	18. Out of the Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know I'm going to hell in a leather jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowza have I not been writing this. Good news! To all of you who are still reading, this is clearly near the end. There's one chapter left. Thanks for holding on as long as you have. It's been a weird and frustrating ride.

Arya took in a deep breath and opened her eyes. The lines in her ceiling were cracked and branching off in odd angles. She followed the lines for a while, not wanting to face reality. Her eyes were crusty at the edges from the night before and her alarm continued to blare at her. 

Ned sighed from the doorway before turning away. It had been like this for days now, ever since his daughter had returned from the hospital alone.

“Is she going to school today?” Catelyn was looking at Ned pointedly as he entered the kitchen. “You’d think you’d recognize post partum when you see it again, Ned.”

Ned looked over at his son in the kitchen. Jon’s dark eyebrows were raised and he put his plate in the sink. To Catelyn’s credit, she didn’t kick the boy out. Yet. But there were still stilted silences and pointed looks.

Jon knew enough to make himself scarce and hadn’t been up to see his little sister. Gendry also hadn’t visited but Ned couldn’t concern himself with that now.

“It isn’t post partum,” Ned said as the door closed behind Jon.

“How do you know?” Catelyn asked. “Those things aren’t always so random. They happen in families.”

“Not this time,” Ned said. “How can you even say that?”

“Because she’s my daughter,” Catelyn said. “And she isn’t okay.”

“And she’s not mine?” Ned asked.

“No,” Catelyn answered. “She’s more yours than anyone’s.”

“Would you rather that boy was here?” Ned asked.

“Arya has always surrounded herself with trouble." 

“Like her brother?”

“What do you want me to say, Ned?” Catelyn asked.

“Just be glad no one’s dead.”

Catelyn looked at her husband sadly. “Someone’s dead.”

* * *

“That’s not fair.”

Arya’s arms were crossed over her chest, over the blanket. Jon shrugged nonchalantly.

“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

“Love’s changed you.” Arya meant it as a joke, but she couldn't say the word with a smile anymore. 

“You’re lucky your mom even allows me in your room.” 

“That’s not true,” Arya said. “Catelyn doesn’t even know you’re up here. And you can’t blackmail me.”

“It’s not blackmail,” Jon said. “It’s leverage. Now go to school or we can’t hang out anymore.”

Arya stuck her tongue out. 

But the moment faded and Jon had no reservations about what was really going on here. How Arya never came out of her fortress of blankets. She never got up even to shower. She never walked around the room. She certainly didn’t go near her drums. 

“Do you think he’s mad at me?”

“Let me guess,” Jon said. “The father of you—“

“Bastard?”

Jon’s eyes darkened.

“It doesn’t have to be a bad word,” Arya said.

“Not the way your mother says it.”

“Why do you let her do that?” Arya asked. “She’s letting you stay, isn’t she?”

“That doesn’t mean that she likes it.” 

“Then how is that different than any other day?”

Jon paused. He had to wonder. Why was this hurt new? Why was this worse than before?

“I don’t know,” Jon finally answered. “Just something she said yesterday.” 

“Which was?”

“Which was ‘get Arya to go to school or you’re both homeless.’”

She didn’t take the bait. “I don’t want to. This isn't easy.” 

“I know,” Jon said. “It isn’t supposed to be.”

“Do you think about your mother?” Arya asked quietly. Jon took her hand and helped her to her feet. “Are you mad at her?”

“No,” Jon said quietly. “I could never be mad. I just wonder." 

“What if she didn’t want to hurt you?” Arya asked. “And that’s why she couldn’t be a mother.”

“I would never be mad,” Jon said again.

* * *

“You took Arya to school?” 

The word was out of Jon’s mouth before he could think. “Sorry.”

Ned’s eyes matched his own, only his father’s were sad instead of defensive.

“She’s going to be fine,” Jon said. “She’s really just the same as she’s always been. Lonely.”

Jon had no desire to make his father even sadder than he already was, but it was the truth. Sometimes, Ned couldn’t face that fact. 

“I guess I’ll be heading back soon.”

“If that’s what you want.” His father would just role over if it meant for the betterment of someone else. Jon couldn’t understand that. He didn’t want to. And he didn’t want this.

“I never wanted to leave." 

His father looked like he had been stricken and Jon wished that it was just easy enough to apologize. But there could be no apologizing for this. No matter how sorry the two of them were.

“I had to,” Jon finished.

“I know you did,” said Ned.

“It isn’t easy,” Jon said, “for Arya either.”

“It was Arya’s decision,” Ned said. “And she was an adult about it. She’s going to be an adult about this too.”

“But if she’s sick,” Jon said, almost feeling a sickness in his stomach as well, “that won’t be easy for her.”

“She isn’t depressed,” Ned said. “I know she isn’t.”

“But if Catelyn was when she had her, doesn’t that mean—“

“Jon,” Ned said, staring at his son. “You think Catelyn had post partum?”

Jon felt dread spread throughout him.

“Just this morning…” Jon said.

“She wasn’t talking about herself,” Ned said. He looked uncertain for a moment. He closed his mouth and Jon was certain that the conversation was over. “She was talking about your mother.” 

* * *

“Do you want me to drive? I think I should drive.”

Bran had propped himself up with his crutches on Arya’s doorjamb. He wasn’t about to help Arya out of bed, but at least she had put on a clean shirt.

“No one in this room is driving anywhere.”

Bran and Arya looked over to see Jon speaking from the hallway. Arya pulled a sweatshirt over her head. It sagged over her, obscuring any hint of her natural frame.

Jon took a step inside the room.

“And where are we going?”

“We?” Arya snorted. She still stepped gingerly. Maybe she shouldn’t have been going to school so soon after the hospital but Catelyn assured everyone that it had been fine. And even Bran could walk from time to time.

“You’re going of your own free will, probably meaning that it’s something you shouldn’t be doing.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Bran muttered. 

“You’re not coming,” Arya said. She turned to Jon. “And since when do you live here?”

“Manners, Arya,” Jon said. “Some would think that you were raised by wolves.”

“Just by you.”

He cracked a smile. “Where, Arya?”

“Gendry’s.” 

Arya shot an annoyed look at Bran. “I am not.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Bran said again.

“Maybe it is,” Jon said. “But I’m driving.”

“What’s he going to do, get me pregnant again?” Arya asked wryly.

“I thought you said you weren’t going,” Jon said smartly.

“Don’t forget the drums,” Bran piped up.

* * *

Arya’s sweatshirt hood was far over her eyes. She did this whenever she was upset. Trees flew by the window and Jon glanced at her from his position behind the wheel.

“The least you could do was thank me after lugging your drum set into the back.” It was Jon’s failed attempt at conversation. Arya could freeze you out with the best of them. “What is this, some attempt at a grand romantic gesture?”

“It was Bran’s idea.” She said this quickly and Jon laughed.

“No it wasn’t.”

“Well what do you even know?”

“I know you,” Jon reminded her. “And you’re a marshmallow, Arya Stark.”

Arya stared at him for a moment.

He was sure that the conversation had come to yet another abrupt halt.

“How can you say that?” Arya asked.

“How can I not?” he asked in reply.

“You’re infuriating.”

“And you’re stubborn,” Jon said. “You couldn’t be more transparent if you tried. What I said at the hospital actually got through that thick skull of yours.”

“Don’t bet on it.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Jon asked. “Really.”

Arya didn’t have an answer for that.

“If you really didn’t care, you wouldn’t be here to begin with.”

“That doesn’t mean it’ll be enough.”

“At least you care,” Jon said. “And I always say better late than never.”

“Because you take after Dad,” Arya said. "What's that about?"

They had finally reached Gendry’s house, but Jon sat stoically silent.

“It isn’t like you to be vague,” Arya prodded. Now she wasn’t just annoyed, she was genuinely curious. It really wasn’t like him. Jon was a Stark and there was a certain bluntness to that honor.

Jon ruffled her hair. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Are you kidding?" she asked. "Talk about what?"

Jon got out of his side of the car instead of answering her.

“Do you need a lesson in romantic gestures or what?”

“More like an exercise in futility,” Arya answered, slamming her own door behind her. She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt, making her even more androgynous.

“You think you can remember the moves?”

“Can you?” Arya retorted.

“If Bran isn’t allowed to come than neither am I,” Jon said. “And frankly my position on this matter is dubious at best.”

“Coward.”

“Look in a mirror, kid.”

Arya bit her lip.

There was a sound of a door slamming again and Gendry appeared on his steps.

“What are you two doing?” 

“Loading in the equipment,” Jon yelled back and popped the trunk.

There was no response this time. When Arya had looked back up, Gendry had disappeared back into the house.

Jon and Arya shared a look of uncertainty.

“He hates me.”

Jon sighed. “I wish he did.” 

Not a second later the sound of the front door slammed and Gendry was climbing down the fire escape, his guitar strapped to his back.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

* * *

“Do you remember?”

“What?” 

“The way things used to be." God, she was getting sappy already. The major pitfall of trying to win someone's affection was that you did dangerously stupid things like what you were actually feeling and thinking. She hated it. "You, me, and Jon. We had a good three-piece.”

Gendry was quiet for a moment, tuning his guitar. She thought that maybe he was thinking, but she couldn't be sure.

“How are you doing?” Gendry finally asked. Maybe he wasn't thinking at all. “I haven’t seen you since…”

_Since I had your baby and was fucked up on drugs in the hospital and hallucinated you singing to me?_

Now things were even more awkward but there was really no fixing that now.

Arya hit her stick on the drum. “How are you?" 

Gendry looked confused.

“I never asked,” Arya said. “And I should have. I should have a lot of times but I never did.”

Gendry shrugged. “It was your decision.” 

She really wished people would stop saying that. Arya looked over her shoulder. Jon was still in the main part of the house and she was pretty sure he wasn’t going to come out for awhile. As much as he played the indignant brother, he saw more than most.

If she could tell Gendry how she really felt, she would. She would really try. But they had been going around in circles for ages and she didn’t know how to break out of it.

“I heard you play in my room,” Arya finally admitted. “Before. I thought it might have been a dream.”

This was a start. But everything out of her mouth was so cheesy it could be in one of Sansa’s novels. It made Arya’s skin crawl.

“It wasn’t a dream,” Gendry said softly.

Well that was something.

“I’m sorry.” 

And there it was. Something that she could never understand and something that desperately needed to be said. For her being confused. For her taking it out on him. For all of the excuses and refusing to let him go.

That’s all this really was, she realized. He was her best friend and she punished him for the fact that he was starting to slip away. Jon had just been the catalyst. The truth was Gendry hadn’t been her friend for a very long time.

She was just so stupid she couldn’t see it.

Maybe he couldn’t either. The universe literally had to slap them both in the face with the most obvious mistake they could make.

“You’re sorry,” Gendry repeated.

“Yeah.” 

“You never apologize,” he said.

“I’m never wrong,” she replied smartly.

“Until now.” He threatened to smile. “I understand.”

“You do?” Arya asked doubtfully. But maybe that was all she ever really wanted. She was just hard at letting go.

“You’re going to have to stop calling me stupid.” But he wasn’t mad. 

“I never said stupid,” Arya amended.

“Come on,” he snorted.

“I was just confused. I still am, I guess. But less so.”

“Do you still think that?” 

“Everything I said about that, it was because I loved you." Ouch. Words were flowing out of her and she just couldn't stop them. "And I couldn’t stand losing you. But I guess it happened anyway.”

“You haven’t lost me." He was accepting this. How was he accepting all of the horrible words flowing out of her? She thought maybe it was because he- But she couldn't afford to think that way. Willow—“

“I don’t care about that," Arya said sharply. "I don’t. In my whole life, I only ever cared about you.” She couldn't bear to look him in the face. This was mortifying already.

“Do you still think that?”

Arya looked up in surprise. “You are stupid. What do you think I’m trying to say?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you try saying it?” Gendry grinned.

Arya scowled. “I had sex with you because I’m in love with you and I couldn’t stand losing you.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t have to tell you my motives for everything I said, do I?”

“I don’t know." Arya picked at the carpet. She wanted to get behind her drums more than anything at this point. "You’re my best friend."

Somehow, that was all that it really came down to.

"Sansa called me Horseface but you never thought that. And you don’t expect me to wear dresses all the time and you don’t care if I get dirty or wrestle.”

“You’re still a Stark.” He sounded sad.

“And you’re still a stubborn bull-headed boy," Arya retorted. 

“So does this mean you wanted to go to prom or…”

She punched him in the shoulder. She had forgotten what his smile looked like.

“You look nice in dresses, you know. Even if you hate them.”

Arya leaned forward impulsively and kissed him. “I’m tired of talking.” 

His eyes were warm. “Your first day out of the hospital, you probably shouldn’t be caught in my bedroom.”

"It isn't my first day out of the hospital," Arya said. "And I didn’t come here for nothing”

Gendry smiled broadly and picked up his guitar. 

“Can I come back yet, or is the healing still a work in progress?” Jon stuck his head into the room. Arya rolled her eyes and sat at the kit.

When Jon picked up the bass, it was like no time had passed. And like the first time she met Gendry, it was as though there was a telepathic link through the three of them. Arya needed only hit her drum once and Gendry picked up the cue.

Arya exhaled and for the first time, let herself be happy.

_Yes, I know I’m going to hell in a leather jacket._

_Somewhere along the way._


End file.
